tfCr 


NOVELS  BY  CAPT.  KING. 


CAPTAIN  BLAKE.     Illustrated.      121110.     .    Cloth,  $1.25 

THE  COLONEL'S  DAUGHTER.     Illustrated.        "  1.25 

THE  COLONEL'S   CHRISTMAS    DINNER     .      .        "  1.25 

MARION'S  FAITH.     Illustrated   ....        "  1.25 

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KITTY'S  CONQUEST "  i.oo 

LAKAMIE "  I  oo 

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Two  SOLDIERS,  AND  DUNRAVEN  RANCH     .        "  i.oo 

A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET,  AND  AN  ARMY  PORTIA   "  i.oo 

l-OR     SALE    BY     ALL    BOOKSELLERS. 

J.  B.  LIPP1NCOTT  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

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WARING'S    PERIL 


BY 

CAPT.  CHARLES   KING, 

U.  S.  ARMY, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  COLONEL'S  DAUGHTER,"  "FOES  IN  AMBUSH/'  "AN  ARMY 
PORTIA,"  "TWO  SOLDIERS,"   "A  SOLDIER'S  SECRET,"  ETC. 


UP? 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY. 
1894. 


COIYRIGKT,  1895, 
I,Y 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


PRINTED  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY.  PHILADELPHIA. 


i 
I 

WAKING'S   PERIL. 


CHAPTER  I. 


"ANANIAS!"  ;  :  :'v  •  '•/  , 

"Ye-as,suh?"  •'     :>  :    :••*•••:••:•. 

""What  time  is  it?" 

"  Gyahd-mountin'  done  gone,  suh." 

"  The  devil  it  has !  What  do  you  mean,  sir, 
by  allowing  me  to  sleep  on  in  this  shameless 
and  unconscionable  manner,  when  an  indulgent 
government  is  suffering  for  my  services  ?  What 
sort  of  day  is  it,  sir  ?" 

"  Beautiful  day,  Mr.  "Waring." 

"  Then  go  at  once  to  Mr.  Larkin  and  tell  him 
he  can't  wear  his  new  silk  hat  this  morning, — I 
want  it,  and  you  fetch  it.  Don't  allow  him  to 
ring  in  the  old  one  on  you.  Tell  him  I  mean 
the  new  'spring  style*  he  just  brought  from 
New  York.  Tell  Mr.  Ferry  I  want  that  new 
Hatfield  suit  of  his,  and  you  get  Mr.  Pierce's 
silk  umbrella;  then  come  back  here  and  get 


4  WAKING'S   PERIL. 

* 

my  bath  and  my  coftee.  Stop  there,  Ananias ! 
Give  my  pious  regards  to  the  commanding 
officer,  sir,  and  tell  him  that  there's  no  drill  for 
4  X'  Battery  this  morning,  as  I'm  to  breakfast 
at  Moreau's  at  eleven  o'clock  and  go  to  the 
matinte  afterwards." 

"Beg  pahdon,  suh,  but  de  cunnle's  done 
ohdered  review  fo'  de  whole  command,  suh, 
right  at  nine  o'clock." 

"So  rauch  the  "better.  Then  Captain  Cram 
must  stay,  and  won't  need  his  swell  team.  Go 
right  down  to  the  stable  and  tell  Jeffers  I'll 
drive  at  nine-thirty." 

«  But " 

"  No  huts,  you  incorrigible  rascal !  I  don't 
pay  you  a  princely  salary  to  raise  obstacles.  I 
don't  pay  you  at  all,  sir,  except  at  rare  intervals 
and  in  moments  of  mental  decrepitude.  Go  at 
once!  Allez!  Chassez!  Skoot!" 

"But,  lieutenant,"  says  Ananias,  his  black 
face  shining,  his  even  white  teeth  all  agleam, 
"  Captain  Cram  stopped  in  on  de  way  back 
from  stables  to  say  Glenco  'd  sprained  his  foot 
and  you  was  to  ride  de  bay  colt.  Please  get 
up,  suh.  Boots  and  Saddles  '11  soun'  in  ten 
minutes." 


WARING'S  PERIL.  5 

"  It  won't,  but  if  it  does  I'll  brain  the  bugler. 
Tell  him  so.  Tell  Captain  Cram  he's  entirely 
mistaken:  I  won't  ride  the  bay  colt — nor 
Glen co.  I'm  going  driving,  sir,  with  Captain 
Cram's  own  team  and  road- wagon. ?'  Tell  him 
so.  Going  in  forty-five  minutes  by  my  watch. 
"Where  is  it,  sir  ?" 

"  It  ain't  back  from  de  jeweller's,  suh,  where 
you  done  lef  it  day  before  yist'day;  but  his 
boy's  hyuh  now,  suh,  wid  de  bill  for  las'  year. 
"What  shall  I  tell  him  ?" 

"  Tell  him  to  go  to— quarantine.  No !  Tell 
him  the  fever  has  broken  out  here  again,  sir, 
and  not  to  call  until  ten  o'clock  next  spring, — 
next  mainspring  they  put  in  that  watch.  Go 
and  get  Mr.  Merton's  watch.  Tell  him  I'll  be 
sure  to  overstay  in  town  if  he  doesn't  send  it, 
and  then  I  can't  take  him  up  and  introduce  him 
to  those  ladies  from  Louisville  to-morrow.  Im 
press  that  on  him,  sir,  unless  he's  gone  and  left 
it  on  his  bureau,  in  which  case  impress  the 
watch, — the  watch,  sir,  in  any  case.  No !  Stop 
again,  Ananias;  not  in  any  case,  only  in  the  gold 
hunting-case;  no  other.  Now  then,  vanish!" 

"But,  lieutenant,  'fo'  Gawd,  suh,  dey'll  put 
you  in  arrest  if  you  cuts  drill  dis  time.  Cunnle 
1* 


6  WARIXG'S  PERIL. 

Braxton  says  to  Captain  Cram  only  two  days 
ago,  suh,  dat " 

But  here  a  white  arm  shot  out  from  a  canopy 
of  mosquito-netting,  and  first  a  boot-jack,  then 
a  slipper /then  a  heavy  top-boot,  came  whizzing 
past  the  darky's  dodging  head,  and,  finding 
expostulation  vain,  that  faithful  servitor  bolted 
out  in  search  of  some  ally  more  potent,  and 
found  one,  though  not  the  one  he  sought  or 
desired,  just  entering  the  adjoining  room. 

A  big  fellow,  too, — too  big,  in  fact,  to  be  seen 
wearing,  as  was  the  fashion  in  the  sixties,  the 
shell  jacket  of  the  light  artillery.  He  had  a 
full  round  body,  and  a  full  round  ruddy  face, 
and  a  little  round  visorless  cap  cocked  on  one 
side  of  a  round  bullet  head,  not  very  full  of 
brains,  perhaps,  yet  reputed  to  be  fairly  stocked 
with  what  is  termed  "  horse  sense."  His  bulky 
legs  were  thrust  deep  in  long  boots,  and  orna 
mented,  so  far  as  the  skin-tight  breeches  of  sky- 
blue  were  concerned,  with  a  scarlet  welt  along 
the  seam,  a  welt  that  his  comrades  were  wont  to 
say  would  make  a  white  mark  on  his  nose,  so 
red  and  bulbous  was  that  organ.  He  came 
noisily  in  from  the  broad  veranda  overlooking 
the  parade-ground,  glanced  about  on  the  dis- 


WARING' S  PERIL.  7 

array  of  the  bachelor  sitting-room,  then  whirled 
on  Ananias. 

"  Mr.  Waring  dressed  ?" 

"  No-o,  suh ;  jus'  woke  up,  suh ;  ain't  out  o' 
bed  yit." 

"  The  lazy  vagabone !  Just  let  me  get  at  him 
a  minute,"  said  the  big  man,  tramping  over  to 
the  door-way  as  though  bent  on  invading  the 
chamber  beyond.  But  Ananias  had  halted 
short  at  sight  of  the  intruder,  and  stood  there 
resolutely  barring  the  way. 

"Beg  pahdon,  lieutenant,  but  Mr.  Waring 
ain't  had  his  bath  yit.  Can  I  mix  de  lieutenant 
a  cocktail,  suh  ?" 

"  Can  you  ?  You  black  imp  of  Satan,  why 
isn't  it  ready  now,  sir?  Sure  you  could  have 
seen  I  was  as  dhry  as  a  lime-kiln  from  the  time 
I  came  through  the  gate.  Hware's  the  demi 
john,  you  villain  ?" 

"  Bein'  refilled,  suh,  down  to  de  sto',  but  dar's 
a  little  on  de  sideboa'd,  suh,"  answered  Ana 
nias,  edging  over  thither  now  that  he  had  lured 
the  invader  away  from  the  guarded  door-way. 
"  Take  it  straight,  suh,  o'  wid  bitters — o' 
toddy?" 

"Faith,  I'll  answer  ye  as  Pat  did  the  parson: 


8  WARINGPS  PERIL. 

I'll  take  it  straight  now,  and  then  be  drinkin' 
the  toddy  while  your  honor  is  mixin'  the  punch. 
Give  me  hold  of  it,  you  smudge !  and  tell  your 
masther  it's  review, — full  dress, — and  it's  time 
for  him  to  be  up.  Has  he  had  his  two  cocktails 
yet?" 

"The  lieutenant  doesn't  care  fo'  any  dis 
mawnin',  suh.  I'll  fetch  him  his  coffee  in  a 
minute.  Did  you  see  de  cunnle's  oade'ly,  suh  ? 
He  was  lookin'  fo'  you  a  moment  ago." 

The  big  red  man  was  gulping  down  a  big 
drink  of  the  fiery  liquor  at  the  instant.  He  set 
the  glass  back  on  the  sideboard  with  unsteady 
hand  and  glared  at  Ananias  suspiciously. 

fc"  Is  it  troot'  you're  tellin',  nigger  ?    Hwat  did 
he  say  was  wanted  ?" 

"  Didn't  say,  suh,  but  de  cunnle's  in  his 
office.  Yawnduh  comes  de  oade'ly,  too,  suh; 
guess  he  must  have  hyuhd  you  was  over  hyuh." 

The  result  of  this  announcement  was  not  un 
expected.  The  big  man  made  a  leap  for  the 
chamber  door,  only  to  find  it  slammed  in  his 
face  from  the  other  side. 

"Hwat  the  devil's  the  matter  with  your 
master  this  morning,  Ananias  ?  —  Waring  ! 
"Waring,  I  say !  Let  me  in :  the  K.  O.'s  orderly 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  9 

is  afther  me,  and  all  on  account  of  your  bring 
ing  me  in  at  that  hour  last  night. — Tell  him  Fve 
gone,  Ananias. — Let  me  in,  Waring,  there's  a 
good  fellow." 

"  Go  to  blazes,  Doyle !"  is  the  unfeeling  an 
swer  from  the  other  side.  "I'm  bathing." 
And  a  vigorous  splashing  follows  the  announce 
ment. 

"For  the  Lord's  sake,  "Waring,  let  me  in. 
Sure  I  can't  see  the  colonel  now.  If  I  could 
stand  him  off  until  review  and  inspection's  over 
and  he's  had  his  dhrink,  he'd  let  the  whole 
thing  drop;  but  that  blackguard  of  a  sinthry 
has  given  us  away.  Sure  I  told  you  he  would." 

"  Then  slide  down  the  lightning-rod !  Fly 
up  the  chimney !  Evaporate !  Dry  up  and  blow 
away,  but  get  out !  You  can't  come  in  here." 

"  Oh,  for  mercy's  sake,  Waring !  Sure  'twas 
you  that  got  me  into  the  scrape.  You  know 
that  I  was  dhrunk  when  you  found  me  up  the 
levee.  You  made  me  come  down  when  I  didn't 
want  to.  Hwat  did  I  say  to  the  man  last  night, 
anyhow  ?" 

"  Say  to  him  ?  Poor  devil !  why,  you  never 
can  remember  after  you're  drunk  what  you've 
been  doing  the  night  before.  Some  time  it'll 


10  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

be  the  death  of  you.  You  abused  him  like 
a  pickpocket, — the  sergeant  of  the  guard  and 
everybody  connected  with  it." 

"  Oh,  murther,  murther,  murther !"  groaned 
the  poor  Irishman,  sitting  down  and  covering 
his  face  with  his  hands.  "  Sure  they'll  court- 
martial  me  this  time  without  fail,  and  I  know  it. 
For  God's  sake,  "Waring,  can't  ye  let  a  fellow  in 
and  say  that  I'm  not  here  ?" 

"  Hyuh,  dis  way,  lieutenant,"  whispered  Ana 
nias,  mysteriously.  "  Slip  out  on  de  po'ch  and 
into  Mr.  Pierce's  room.  I'll  tell  you  when  he's 
gone."  And  in  a  moment  the  huge  bulk  of  the 
senior  lieutenant  of  Light  Battery  "X"  was 
being  boosted  through  a  window  opening  from 
the  gallery  into  the  bachelor  den  of  the  junior 
second  lieutenant.  No  sooner  was  this  done 
than  the  negro  servant  darted  back,  closed  and 
bolted  the  long  green  Venetian  blinds  behind 
him,  tiptoed  to  the  bedroom  door,  and,  softly 
tapping,  called, — 

"  Mr.  Waring !  Mr.  Waring !  get  dressed 
quick  as  you  can,  suh ;  I'll  lay  out  your  uniform 
in  hyuh." 

"  I  tell  you,  Ananias,  I'm  going  to  town,  sir ; 
not  to  any  ridiculous  review.  Go  and  get  what 


WARINO'S  PERIL.  11 

I  ordered  you.  See  that  I'm  properly  dressed, 
sir,  or  I'll  discharge  you.  Confound  you,  sir! 
there  isn't  a  drop  of  Florida  water  in  this  bath, 
and  none  on  my  bureau.  Go  and  rob  Mr. 
Pierce, — or  anybody." 

But  Ananias  was  already  gone.  Darting  out 
on  the  gallery,  he  took  a  header  through  the 
window  of  the  adjoining  quarters  through 
which  Mr.  Doyle  had  escaped,  snatched  a  long 
flask  from  the  dressing-table,  and  was  back  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

"What  became  of  Mr.  Doyle?"  asked  Wa 
ring,  as  he  thrust  a  bare  arm  through  a  narrow 
aperture  to  receive  the  spoil.  "Don't  let  him 
get  drunk ;  he's  got  to  go  to  review,  sir.  If  he 
doesn't,  Colonel  Braxton  may  be  so  inconsider 
ate  as  to  inquire  why  both  the  lieutenants  of  *  XJ 
Battery  are  missing.  Take  good  care  of  him 
till  the  review,  sir,  then  let  him  go  to  grass ;  and 
don't  you  dare  leave  me  without  Florida  water 
again,  if  you  have  to  burglarize  the  whole  post. 
What's  Mr.  Doyle  doing,  sir  ?" 

"  Peekin'  froo  de  blin's  in  Mr.  Pierce's  room, 
suh ;  lookin'  fo'  de  oade'ly.  I  done  told  him 
de  cunnle  was  ahter  him,  but  he  ain't,  suh," 
chuckled  Ananias.  "  I  fixed  it  all  right  wid  de 


12  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

gyahd  dis  mawnin',  suh.  Dey  won'  tell  'bout 
his  cuttin'  up  las'  night.  He'd  forgot  de  whole 
t'ing,  suh ;  he  allays  does ;  he  never  does  know 
what's  happened  de  night  befo'.  He  wouldn't 
'a'  known  about  dis,  but  I  told  his  boy  Jim  to 
tell  him  'bout  it  ahter  stables.  I  told  Jim  to 
eweah  dat  dey'd  repohted  it  to  de  cunnle." 

"  Very  well,  Ananias ;  very  well,  sir ;  you're 
a  credit  to  your  name.  Now  go  and  carry  out 
my  orders.  Don't  forget  Captain  Cram's  wagon. 
Tell  Jeffers  to  be  here  with  it  on  time."  And 
the  lieutenant  returned  to  his  bath  without  wait 
ing  for  reply. 

"  Ye-as,  suh,"  was  the  subordinate  answer,  as 
Ananias  promptly  turned,  and,  whistling  cheer 
ily,  went  banging  out  upon  the  gallery  and 
clattering  down  the  open  stairway  to  the  brick- 
paved  court  below.  Here  he  as  promptly 
turned,  and,  noiseless  as  a  cat,  shot  up  the  stair 
way,  tiptoed  back  into  the  sitting-room,  kicked 
off  his  low-heeled  slippers,  and  rapidly,  but 
with  hardly  an  audible  sound,  resumed  the 
work  on  which  he  had  been  engaged, — the 
arrangement  of  his  master's  kit. 

Already,  faultlessly  brushed,  folded  and  hang 
ing  over  the  back  of  a  chair  close  by  the  cham- 


WAKING'S   PERIL.  13 

ber  door  were  the  bright  blue,  scarlet-welted 
battery  trousers  then  in  vogue,  very  snug  at  the 
knee,  very  springy  over  the  foot.  Underneath 
them,  spread  over  the  square  back  of  the  chair, 
a  dark-blue,  single-breasted  frock-coat,  hanging 
nearly  to  the  floor,  its  shoulders  decked  with 
huge  epaulettes,  to  the  right  one  of  which  were 
attached  the  braid  and  loops  of  a  heavy  gilt 
aiguillette  whose  glistening  pendants  were  hung 
temporarily  on  the  upper  button.  On  the  seat 
of  the  chair  was  folded  a  broad  soft  sash  of  red 
silk  net,  its  tassels  carefully  spread.  Beside  it 
lay  a  pair  of  long  buff  gauntlets,  new  and  spot 
less.  At  the  door,  brilliantly  polished,  stood  a 
pair  of  buttoned  gaiter  boots,  the  heels  deco 
rated  with  small  glistening  brass  spurs.  In  the 
corner,  close  at  hand,  leaned  a  long  curved 
sabre,  its  gold  sword-knot,  its  triple-guarded 
hilt,  its  steel  scabbard  and  plated  bands  and 
rings,  as  well  as  the  swivels  and  buckle  of  the 
black  sword-belt,  showing  the  perfection  of  fin 
ish  in  manufacture  and  care  in  keeping.  From  a 
round  leather  box  Ananias  now  extracted  a  new 
gold-wire  fourag&re,  which  he  softly  wiped  with 
a  silk  handkerchief,  dandled  lovingly  an  instant 
the  glistening  tassels,  coiled  it  carefully  upon 

2 


14  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

the  sash,  then  producing  from  the  same  box  a 
long  scarlet  horsehair  plume  he  first  brushed  it 
into  shimmering  freedom  from  the  faintest  knot 
or  kink,  then  set  it  firmly  through  its  socket  into 
the  front  of  a  gold-braided  shako  whose  black 
front  was  decked  with  the  embroidered  cross 
cannon  of  the  regiment,  surmounted  by  the 
arms  of  the  United  States.  This  he  noiselessly 
placed  upon  the  edge  of  the  mantel,  stepped 
back  to  complacently  view  his  work,  flicked  off 
a  possible  speck  of  dust  on  the  sleeve  of  the 
coat,  touched  with  a  chamois-skin  the  gold  cres 
cent  of  the  nearest  epaulette,  then  softly,  noise 
lessly  as  before  vanished  through  the  door-way, 
tiptoed  to  the  adjoining  window,  and  peeked  in. 
Mr.  Doyle  had  thrown  himself  into  Pieree's 
arm-chair,  and  was  trying  to  read  the  morning 
paper. 

"  Wunner  what  Mars'er  Pierce  will  say  when 
he  gits  back  from  breakfast,"  was  Ananias's 
comment,  as  he  sped  softly  down  the  stairs,  a 
broad  grin  on  his  black  face,  a  grin  that  almost 
instantly  gave  place  to  preternatural  solemnity 
and  respect  as,  turning  sharply  on  the  sidewalk 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  he  came  face  to  face 
with  the  battery  commander.  Ananias  would 


WARIXG'S  PERIL.  15 

have  passed  with  a  low  obeisance,  but  the  cap 
tain  halted  him  short. 

"Where's  Mr.  Waring,  sir?" 

"  Dressin'  fo'  inspection,  captain." 

"  He  is  ?  I  just  heard  in  the  mess-room  that 
he  didn't  propose  attending, — that  he  had  an 
engagement  to  breakfast  and  was  going  in 
town." 

"Ye-as,  suh,  ye-as,  suh,  General  Roosseau, 
suh,  expected  de  lieutenant  in  to  breakfast,  but 
de  moment  he  hyuhd  'twas  review  he  ohdered 
me  to  git  everything  ready,  suh.  I's  goin'  for 
de  bay  colt  now.  Beg  pahdon,  captain,  de 
lieutenant  says  is  de  captain  goin'  to  wear 
gauntlets  or  gloves  dis  mawnin'  ?  He  wants  to 
do  just  as  de  captain  does,  suh." 

What  a  merciful  interposition  of  divine  Provi 
dence  it  is  that  the  African  cannot  blush !  Cap 
tain  Cram  looked  suspiciously  at  the  earnest, 
unwinking,  black  face  before  him.  Some  mem 
ory  of  old  college  days  flitted  through  his  mind 
at  the  moment.  "  0  Kunopes !"  ("  thou  dog- 
faced  one  I")  he  caught  himself  muttering,  but 
negro  diplomacy  was  too  much  for  him,  and  the 
innocence  in  the  face  of  Ananias  would  have 
baffled  a  man  far  more  suspicious.  Cram  was 


1C  WAXINGPS  PERIL. 

a  fellow  who  loved  his  battery  and  his  profes 
sion  as  few  men  loved  before.  He  was  full  of 
big  ideas  in  one  way  and  little  oddities  in 
another.  Undoubted  ability  had  been  at  the 
bottom  of  his  selection  over  the  head  of  many 
a  senior  to  command  one  of  the  light  batteries 
when  the  general  dismounting  took  place  in  '66. 
Unusual  attractions  of  person  had  won  him  a 
wife  with  a  fortune  only  a  little  later.  The 
fortune  had  warranted  a  short  leave  abroad  this 
very  year.  (He  would  not  have  taken  a  day 
over  sixty,  for  fear  of  losing  his  light  battery.) 
He  had  been  a  stickler  for  gauntlets  on  all 
mounted  duty  when  he  went  away,  and  he  came 
home  converted  to  white  wash-leather  gloves 
because  the  British  horse-artillery  wore  no 
other,  "and  they,  sir,  are  the  nattiest  in  the 
world."  He  could  not  tolerate  an  officer  whose 
soul  was  not  aflame  with  enthusiasm  for  battery 
duty,  and  so  was  perpetually  at  war  with  Wa 
ring,  who  dared  to  have  other  aspirations.  He 
delighted  in  a  man  who  took  pride  in  his  dress 
and  equipment,  and  so  rejoiced  in  Waring,  who, 
more  than  any  subaltern  ever  attached  to  "  X," 
was  the  very  glass  of  soldier  fashion  and  mould 
of  soldier  form.  He  had  dropped  in  at  the 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  17 

bachelor  mess  just  in  time  to  hear  some  gab 
bling  youngster  blurt  out  a  bet  that  Sam  Wa 
ring  would  cut  review  and  keep  his  tryst  in 
town,  and  he  had  known  him  many  a  time  to 
overpersuade  his  superiors  into  excusing  him 
from  duty  on  pretext  of  social  claims,  and  more 
than  once  into  pardoning  deliberate  absence. 
But  he  and  the  post  commander  had  deemed  it 
high  time  to  block  all  that  nonsense  in  future, 
and  had  so  informed  him,  and  were  nonplussed 
at  Waring's  cheery  acceptance  of  the  implied 
rebuke  and  most  airy,  graceful,  and  immediate 
change  of  the  subject.  The  whole  garrison  was 
chuckling  over  it  by  night. 

"Why,  certainly,  colonel,"  said  he,  "I  have 
been  most  derelict  of  late  during  the  visit  of 
all  these  charming  people  from  the  North ;  and 
that  reminds  me,  some  of  them  are  going  to 
drive  out  here  to  hear  the  band  this  afternoon 
and  take  a  bite  at  my  quarters.  I  was  just  on 
my  way  to  beg  Mrs.  Braxton  and  Mrs.  Cram  to 
receive  for  me,  when  your  orderly  came.  And, 
colonel,  I  want  your  advice  about  the  cham 
pagne.  Of  course  I  needn't  say  I  hope  you 
both  will  honor  me  with  your  presence."  Old 
Brax  loved  champagne  and  salad  better  than 
b  2* 


18  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

anything  his  profession  afforded,  and  was  dis 
armed  at  once.  As  for  Cram,  what  could  he 
say  when  the  post  commander  dropped  the 
matter?  With  all  his  daring  disregard  of 
orders  and  established  customs,  with  all  his 
consummate  sang-froid  and  what  some  called 
impudence  and  others  "  cheek,"  every  superior 
under  whom  he  had  ever  served  had  sooner  or 
later  become  actually  fond  of  Sam  "Waring, — 
even  stern  old  Rounds, — "  old  Double  Rounds" 
the  boys  called  him,  one  of  the  martinets  of  the 
sendee,  whose  first  experience  with  the  fellow 
was  as  memorable  as  it  was  unexpected,  and 
who  wound  up,  after  a  vehement  scoring  of 
some  two  minutes'  duration,  during  which  Wa 
ring  had  stood  patiently  at  attention  with  an 
expression  of  the  liveliest  sympathy  and  interest 
on  his  handsome  face,  by  asking  impressively, 
"  ISTow,  sir,  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?" 

To  which,  with  inimitable  mixture  of  suavity 
and  concern,  Sam  replied,  "  Nothing  whatever, 
sir.  I  doubt  if  anything  more  could  be  said.  I 
had  no  adequate  idea  of  the  extent  of  my  mis 
doing.  Have  I  your  permission  to  sit  down,  sir, 
and  think  it  over  ?" 

Rounds  actually  didn't  know  what  to  think, 


WARING' S  PERIL.  19 

and  still  less  what  to  say.  Had  he  believed  for 
an  instant  that  the  young  gentleman  was  insin 
cere,  he  would  have  had  him  in  close  arrest  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye ;  but  Waring's  tone  and 
words  and  manner  were  those  of  contrition 
itself.  It  was  not  possible  that  one  of  the  boys 
should  dare  to  be  guying  him,  the  implacable 
Bounds,  "old  Grand  Rounds"  of  the  Sixth 
Corps,  old  Double  Rounds  of  the  horse-artillery 
of  the  Peninsula  days.  Mrs.  Rounds  had  her 
suspicions  when  told  of  the  affair,  but  was  silent, 
for  of  all  the  officers  stationed  in  and  around 
the  old  Southern  city  Sam  "Waring  was  by  long 
odds  the  most  graceful  and  accomplished  dancer 
and  german  leader,  the  best  informed  on  all 
manner  of  interesting  matters, — social,  musical, 
dramatic,  fashionable, — the  prime  mover  in  gar 
rison  hops  and  parties,  the  connecting  link 
between  the  families  of  the  general  and  staff 
officers  in  town  and  the  linesmen  at  the  sur 
rounding  posts,  the  man  whose  dictum  as  to  a 
dinner  or  luncheon  and  whose  judgment  as  to  a 
woman's  toilet  were  most  quoted  and  least  ques 
tioned,  the  man  whose  word  could  almost  make 
or  mar  an  army  girl's  success;  and  good  old 
Lady  Rounds  had  two  such  encumbrances  the 


20  WARING'S  PERIL. 

first  winter  of  their  sojourn  in  the  South,  and 
two  army  girls  among  so  many  are  subjects  of 
not  a  little  thought  and  care.  If  Mr.  "Waring 
had  not  led  the  second  german  with  Margaret 
Hounds  the  mother's  heart  would  have  been 
well-nigh  crushed.  It  was  fear  of  some  such 
catastrophe  that  kept  her  silent  on  the  score  of 
Waring's  reply  to  her  irate  lord,  for  if  Sam  did 
mean  to  be  impertinent,  as  he  unquestionably 
could  be,  the  colonel  she  knew  would  be  merci 
less  in  his  discipline  and  social  amenities  would 
be  at  instant  end.  "Waring  had  covered  her 
with  maternal  triumph  and  Margaret  with 
bliss  unutterable  by  leading  the  ante-Lenten 
german  with  the  elder  daughter  and  making 
her  brief  stay  a  month  of  infinite  joy.  The 
Hounds  were  ordered  on  to  Texas,  and  Marga 
ret's  brief  romance  was  speedily  and  properly 
forgotten  in  the  devotions  of  a  more  solid  if  less 
fascinating  fellow.  To  do  Waring  justice,  he 
had  paid  the  girl  no  more  marked  attention 
than  he  showed  to  any  one  else.  He  would 
have  led  the  next  german  with  Genevieve  had 
there  been  another  to  lead,  just  as  he  had  led 
previous  affairs  with  other  dames  and  damsels. 
It  was  one  of  the  ninety-nine  articles  of  his 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  21 

social  faith  that  a  girl  should  have  a  good  time 
her  first  season,  just  as  it  was  another  that  a 
bride  should  have  a  lovely  wedding,  a  belle  at 
least  one  offer  a  month,  a  married  woman  as 
much  attention  at  an  army  ball  as  could  be  lav 
ished  on  a  bud.  He  prided  himself  on  the  fact 
that  no  woman  at  the  army  parties  given  that 
winter  had  remained  a  wall-flower.  Among 
such  a  host  of  officers  as  was  there  assembled 
during  the  year  that  followed  on  the  heels  of 
the  war  it  was  no  difficult  matter,  to  be  sure,  to 
find  partners  for  the  thirty  or  forty  ladies  who 
honored  those  occasions  with  their  presence. 
Of  local  belles  there  were  none.  It  was  far  too 
soon  after  the  bitter  strife  to  hope  for  bliss  so 
great  as  that.  There  were  hardly  any  but  army 
women  to  provide  for,  and  even  the  bulkiest 
and  least  attractive  of  the  lot  was  led  out  for 
the  dance.  Waring  would  go  to  any  length  to 
see  them  on  the  floor  but  that  of  being  himself 
the  partner.  There  the  line  was  drawn  irrevo 
cably.  The  best  dancer  among  the  men,  he 
simply  would  not  dance  except  with  the  best 
dancers  among  the  women.  As  to  personal  ap 
pearance  and  traits,  it  may  be  said  first  that 
Waring  was  a  man  of  slender,  graceful  phy- 


22  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

Bique,  with  singularly  well  shaped  hands  and 
feet  and  a  head  and  face  that  were  almost  too 
good-looking  to  be  manly.  Dark  hazel  eyes, 
dark  brown  hair,  eyebrows,  lashes,  and  a  very 
heavy  drooping  moustache,  a  straight  nose,  a 
soft,  sensitive  mouth  with  even  white  teeth  that 
were,  however,  rarely  visible,  a  clear-cut  chin, 
and  with  it  all  a  soft,  almost  languid  Southern 
intonation,  musical,  even  ultra-refined,  and  he 
shrank  like  a  woman  from  a  coarse  word  or  the 
utterance  of  an  impure  thought.  He  was  a  man 
whom  many  women  admired,  of  whom  some 
were  afraid,  whom  many  liked  and  trusted,  for 
he  could  not  be  bribed  to  say  a  mean  thing 
about  one  of  their  number,  though  he  would 
sometimes  be  satirical  to  her  very  face.  It  was 
among  the  men  that  Sam  Waring  was  hated 
or  loved, — loved,  laughed  over,  indulged,  even 
spoiled,  perhaps,  to  any  and  every  extent,  by 
the  chosen  few  who  were  his  chums  and  inti 
mates,  and  absolutely  hated  by  a  very  consider 
able  element  that  was  prominent  in  the  army  in 
those  queer  old  days, — the  array  of  officers  who, 
by  reason  of  birth,  antecedents,  lack  of  educa 
tion  or  of  social  opportunities,  were  wanting  in 
those  graces  of  manner  and  language  to  which 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  23 

"Waring  had  been  accustomed  from  earliest  boy 
hood.  His  people  were  Southerners,  yet,  not 
being  slave-owners,  had  stood  firm  for  the 
Union,  and  were  exiled  from  the  old  home  as 
a  natural  consequence  in  a  war  in  which  the 
South  held  all  against  who  were  not  for  her. 
Appointed  a  cadet  and  sent  to  the  Military 
Academy  in  recognition  of  the  loyalty  of  his 
immediate  relatives,  he  was  not  graduated  until 
the  war  was  practically  over,  and  then,  gazetted 
to  an  infantry  regiment,  he  was  stationed  for  a 
time  among  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood,  ostra 
cized  by  his  former  friends  and  unable  to  asso 
ciate  with  most  of  the  war-worn  officers  among 
whom  his  lot  was  cast.  It  was  a  year  of  misery, 
that  ended  in  long  and  dangerous  illness,  his 
final  shipment  to  Washington  on  sick-leave,  and 
then  a  winter  of  keen  delight,  a  social  campaign 
in  which  he  won  fame,  honors,  friends  at  court, 
and  a  transfer  to  the  artillery,  and  then,  joining 
his  new  regiment,  he  plunged  with  eagerness 
into  the  gayeties  of  city  life.  The  blues  were 
left  behind  with  the  cold  facings  of  his  former 
corps,  and  hope,  life,  duty,  were  all  blended  in 
hues  as  roseate  as  his  new  straps  were  red.  It 
wasn't  a  month  before  all  the  best  fellows  in  the 


24  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

batteries  swore  by  Sam  Waring  and  all  the 
others  at  him,  so  that  where  there  were  five  who 
liked  there  were  at  least  twenty  who  didn't,  and 
these  made  up  in  quantity  what  they  lacked  in 
quality. 

To  sum  up  the  situation,  Lieutenant  Doyle's 
expression  was  perhaps  the  most  comprehensive, 
as  giving  the  views  of  the  great  majority :  "  If 
I  were  his  K.  0.  and  this  crowd  the  coort,  he'd 
'a'  been  kicked  out  of  the  service  months  ago." 

And  yet,  entertaining  or  expressing  so  hos 
tile  an  opinion  of  the  laughing  lieutenant,  Mr. 
Doyle  did  not  hesitate  to  seek  his  society  on 
many  an  occasion  when  he  wasn't  wanted,  and 
to  solace  himself  at  Waring's  sideboard  at  any 
hour  of  the  day  or  night,  for  Waring  kept  what 
was  known  as  "  open  house"  to  all  comers,  and 
the  very  men  who  wondered  how  he  could 
afford  it  and  who  predicted  his  speedy  swamp 
ing  in  a  mire  of  debt  and  disgrace  were  the 
very  ones  who  were  most  frequently  to  be  found 
loafing  about  his  gallery,  smoking  his  tobacco 
and  swigging  his  whiskey,  a  pretty  sure  sign 
that  the  occupant  of  the  quarters,  however,  was 
absent.  With  none  of  their  number  had  he 
ever  had  open  quarrel.  Remarks  made  at  hia 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  25 

expense  and  reported  to  him  in  moments  of 
bibulous  confidence  he  treated  with  gay  dis 
dain,  often  to  the  manifest  disappointment  of  his 
informant.  In  his  presence  even  the  most  reck 
less  of  their  number  were  conscious  of  a  certain 
restraint.  Waring,  as  has  been  said,  detested 
foul  language,  and  had  a  very  quiet  but  effective 
way  of  suppressing  it,  often  without  so  much  as 
uttering  a  word.  These  were  the  rough  days 
of  the  army,  the  very  roughest  it  ever  knew, 
the  days  that  intervened  between  the  incessant 
strain  and  tension  of  the  four  years'  battling 
and  the  slow  gradual  resumption  of  good  order 
and  military  discipline.  The  rude  speech  and 
manners  of  the  camp  still  permeated  every 
garrison.  The  bulk  of  the  commissioned  force 
was  made  up  of  hard  fighters,  brave  soldiers 
and  loyal  servants  of  the  nation,  to  be  sure,  but 
as  a  class  they  had  known  no  other  life  or  lan 
guage  since  the  day  of  their  muster-in.  Of 
the  line  officers  stationed  in  and  around  this 
Southern  city  in  the  lovely  spring-tide  of  186-, 
of  a  force  aggregating  twenty  companies  of 
infantry  and  cavalry,  there  were  fifty  captains 
and  lieutenants  appointed  from  the  volunteers, 
the  ranks,  or  civil  life,  to  one  graduated  from 

B  3 


26  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

"West  Point.  The  predominance  was  in  favor 
of  ex-sergeants,  corporals,  or  company  clerks, 
— good  men  and  true  when  they  wore  the 
chevrons,  but  who,  with  a  few  marked  and 
most  admirable  exceptions,  proved  to  be  utterly 
out  of  their  element  when  promoted  to  a  higher 
sphere.  The  entrance  into  their  midst  of  Cap 
tain  Cram  with  his  swell  light  battery,  with 
officers  and  men  in  scarlet  plumes  and  full- 
dress  uniforms,  was  a  revelation  to  the  sombre 
battalions  whose  officers  had  not  yet  even  pur 
chased  their  epaulettes  and  had  seen  no  occasion 
to  wear  them.  But  when  Cram  and  his  lieu 
tenants  came  swaggering  about  the  garrison 
croquet-ground  in  natty  shell  jackets,  Russian 
shoulder-knots,  riding-breeches,  boots,  and  spurs, 
there  were  not  lacking  those  among  the  sturdy 
foot  who  looked  upon  the  whole  proceeding 
with  great  disfavor.  Cram  had  two  "  rankers" 
with  him  when  he  came,  but  one  had  trans 
ferred  out  in  favor  of  Waring,  and  now  his 
battery  was  supplied  with  the  full  complement 
of  subalterns, — Doyle,  very  much  out  of  place, 
commanding  the  right  section  (as  a  platoon  was 
called  in  those  days),  Waring  commanding  the 
left,  Ferry  serving  as  chief  of  caissons,  and 


WARIXG'S  PERIL.  27 

Pierce  as  battery  adjutant  and  general  utility 
man.  Two  of  the  officers  were  graduates  of 
West  Point  and  not  yet  three  years  out  of  the 
cadet  uniform.  Under  these  circumstances  it 
was  injudicious  in  Cram  to  sport  in  person  the 
aiguillettes  and  thereby  set  an  example  to  his 
subalterns  which  they  were  not  slow  to  follow. 
With  their  gold  hat-braids,  cords,  tassels,  and 
epaulettes,  with  scarlet  plumes  and  facings,  he 
and  his  officers  were  already  much  more  gor 
geously  bedecked  than  were  their  infantry 
friends.  The  post  commander,  old  Rounds,  had 
said  nothing,  because  he  had  had  his  start  in 
the  light  artillery  and  might  have  lived  and 
died  a  captain  had  he  not  pushed  for  a  volun 
teer  regiment  and  fought  his  way  up  to  a  di 
vision  command  and  a  lieutenant-colonelcy  of 
regulars  at  the  close  of  the  war,  while  his 
seniors  who  stuck  to  their  own  corps  never  rose 
beyond  the  possibilities  of  their  arm  of  the 
service  and  probably  never  will.  But  Braxton, 
who  succeeded  as  post  commander,  knew  that 
in  European  armies  and  in  the  old  Mexican 
War  days  the  aiguillette  was  ordinarily  the 
distinctive  badge  of  general  officers  or  those 
empowered  to  give  orders  in  their  name.  It 


28  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

wasn't  the  proper  thing  for  a  linesman — battery, 
cavalry,  or  foot — to  wear,  said  Brax,  and  he 
thought  Cram  was  wrong  in  wearing  it,  even 
though  some  other  battery  officers  did  so.  But 
Cram  was  just  back  from  Britain. 

"  Why,  sir,  look  at  the  Life  Guards !  Look 
at  the  Horse  Guards  in  London !  Every  officer 
and  man  wears  the  aiguillette."  And  Braxton 
was  a  Briton  by  birth  and  breeding,  and  that 
ended  it, — at  least  so  nearly  ended  it  that 
Cram's  diplomatic  invitation  to  come  up  and 
try  some  Veuve  Clicquot,  extra  dry,  upon  the 
merits  of  which  he  desired  the  colonel's  opin 
ion,  had  settled  it  for  good  and  all.  Braxton's 
officers  who  ventured  to  suggest  that  he  trim 
the  plumage  of  these  popinjays  only  got 
snubbed,  therefore,  for  the  time  being,  and 
ordered  to  buy  the  infantry  full  dress  forthwith, 
and  Cram  and  his  quartette  continued  to  blaze 
forth  in  gilded  panoply  until  long  after  Sam 
Waring  led  his  last  german  within  those  echo 
ing  walls  and  his  name  lived  only  as  a  dim  and 
mist-wreathed  memory  in  the  annals  of  old 
Jackson  Barracks. 

But  on  this  exquisite  April  morning  no  fellow 
in  all  the  garrison  was  more  prominent,  if  not 


WARISCPS  PERIL.  29 

more  popular.  Despite  the  slight  jealousy  ex 
isting  between  the  rival  arms  of  the  service, 
there  were  good  fellows  and  gallant  men  among 
the  infantry  officers  at  the  post,  who  were  as 
cordially  disposed  towards  the  gay  lieutenant  as 
were  the  comrades  of  his  own  (colored)  cloth. 
This  is  the  more  remarkable  because  he  was 
never  known  to  make  the  faintest  effort  to  con 
ciliate  anybody  and  was  utterly  indifferent  to 
public  opinion.  It  would  have  been  fortune  far 
better  than  his  deserts,  but  for  the  fact  that  by 
nature  he  was  most  generous,  courteous,  and 
considerate.  The  soldiers  of  the  battery  were 
devoted  to  him.  The  servants,  black  or  white, 
would  run  at  any  time  to  do  his  capricious  will. 
The  garrison  children  adored  him.  There  was 
simply  no  subject  under  discussion  at  the  bar 
racks  in  those  days  on  which  such  utter  variety 
of  opinion  existed  as  the  real  character  of 
Lieutenant  Sam  Waring.  As  to  his  habits 
there  was  none  whatever.  He  was  a  bon  vivant, 
a  "  swell,"  a  lover  of  all  that  was  sweet  and  fair 
and  good  and  gracious  in  life.  Self-indulgent, 
said  everybody;  selfish,  said  some;  lazy,  said 
many,  who  watched  him  day-dreaming  through 
the  haze  of  cigar-smoke  until  a  drive,  a  hop,  a 
3* 


30  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

ride,  or  an  opera-party  would  call  him  into 
action.  Slow,  said  the  men,  until  they  saw  him 
catch  Mrs.  "Winslow's  runaway  horse  just  at 
that  ugly  turn  in  the  levee  below  the  south 
tower.  Cold-hearted,  said  many  of  the  women, 
until  Baby  Brainard's  fatal  illness,  when  he 
watched  by  the  little  sufferer's  side  and  brought 
her  flowers  and  luscious  fruit  from  town,  and 
would  sit  at  her  mother's  piano  and  play  soft, 
sweet  melodies  and  sing  in  low  tremulous  tone 
until  the  wearied  eyelids  closed  and  the  sleep  no 
potion  could  bring  to  that  fever-racked  brain 
would  come  at  last  for  him  to  whom  child-love 
was  incense  and  music  at  once  a  passion  and  a 
prayer.  Men  who  little  knew  and  less  liked 
him  thought  his  enmity  would  be  but  light,  and 
few  men  knew  him  so  well  as  to  realize  that  his 
friendship  could  be  firm  and  true  as  steel. 

And  so  the  garrison  was  mixed  in  its  mind  as 
to  Mr.  "Waring,  and  among  those  who  heard  it 
said  at  the  mess  that  he  meant  at  all  hazards  to 
keep  his  engagement  to  breakfast  in  town  there 
were  some  who  really  wished  he  might  cut 
the  suddenly-ordered  review  and  thereby  bring 
down  upon  his  shapely,  nonchalant  head  the 
wrath  of  Colonel  Braxton. 


WARING'S   PERIL.  31 

"Boots  and  Saddles"  had  sounded  at  the 
artillery  barracks.  Mr.  Pierce,  as  battery  offi 
cer  of  the  day,  had  clattered  off  through  the 
north  gateway.  The  battery  had  marched  with 
dancing  plumes  and  clanking  sabres  out  to  the 
stables  and  gun-shed.  The  horses  of  Lieu 
tenants  Doyle  and  Ferry  were  waiting  for  their 
riders  underneath  the  gallery  of  their  quarters. 
Captain  Cram,  in  much  state,  followed  by  his 
orderly  bugler  and  guidon-bearer,  all  in  full 
uniform,  was  riding  slowly  down  the  sunny  side 
of  the  garrison,  and  at  sight  of  him  Doyle  and 
Ferry,  who  were  leisurely  pulling  on  their 
gauntlets  in  front  of  their  respective  doors, 
hooked  up  their  sabres  and  came  clattering 
down  their  stairway;  but  no  "Waring  had  ap 
peared.  There,  across  the  parade  on  the  south 
ern  side,  the  bay  colt,  caparisoned  in  "Waring's 
unimpeachable  horse-equipments,  was  being  led 
up  and  down  in  the  shade  of  the  quarters,  Mr. 
Pierce's  boy  Jim  officiating  as  groom,  while  his 
confrere  Ananias,  out  of  sight,  was  at  the  mo 
ment  on  his  knees  fastening  the  strap  of  his 
master's  riding-trousers  underneath  the  dainty 
gaiter  boot,  Mr.  Waring  the  while  surveying 
the  proceeding  over  the  rim  of  his  coffee-cup. 


32  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

"  Dar,  suh.  Now  into  de  coat,  quick !  Yawn- 
duh  goes  Captain  Cram." 

"Ananias,  how  often  have  I  told  you  that, 
howsoever  necessary  it  might  be  for  you  to 
hurry,  I  never  do  ?  It's  unbecoming  an  officer 
and  a  gentleman  to  hurry,  sir." 

"But  you's  got  to  inspect  yo'  section,  suh, 
befo'  you  can  repote  to  Captain  Cram.  Please 
hurry  wid  de  sash,  suh."  And,  holding  the  belt 
extended  with  both  hands,  Ananias  stood  eager 
to  clasp  it  around  "Waring's  slender  waist,  but 
the  lieutenant  waved  him  away. 

"  Get  thee  behind  me,  imp  of  Satan !  "Would 
you  have  me  neglect  one  of  the  foremost  articles 
of  an  artilleryman's  faith?  Never,  sir!  If 
there  were  a  wrinkle  in  that  sash  it  would  cut 
a  chasm  in  my  reputation,  sir."  And,  so  say 
ing,  he  stepped  to  the  open  door-way,  threw 
the  heavy  tassel  over  and  around  the  knob, 
kissed  his  hand  jauntily  to  his  battery  com 
mander,  now  riding  down  the  opposite  side  of 
the  parade,  backed  deliberately  away  the  full 
length  of  the  sash  across  the  room,  then,  hum 
ming  a  favorite  snatch  from  "Faust,"  deliber 
ately  wound  himself  into  the  bright  crimson 
web,  and,  making  a  broad  flat  loop  near  the 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  33 

farther  end  and  without  stopping  his  song, 
nodded  coolly  to  Ananias  to  come  on  with  the 
belt.  In  the  same  calm  and  deliberate  fashion 
he  finished  his  military  toilet,  set  his  shako  well 
forward  on  his  forehead,  the  chin-strap  hang 
ing  just  below  the  under  lip,  pulled  on  the 
buff  gauntlets,  surveyed  himself  critically  and 
leisurely  in  the  glass,  and  then  began  slowly  to 
descend  the  stairs. 

"Wait—jus'  one  moment,  please,  suh,"  im 
plored  Ananias,  hastening  after  him.  "Jus* 
happened  to  think  of  it,  suh :  Captain  Cram's 
wearin'  gloves  dis  mawnin'." 

"  Ah !  So  much  the  more  chance  to  come 
back  here  in  ten  minutes. — Whoa,  coltikins : 
how  are  you  this  morning,  sir?  Think  you 
could  run  away  if  I  begged  you  to  pretty  hard  ? 
You'll  try,  won't  you,  old  boy  ?"  said  Waring, 
stroking  the  glossy  neck  of  the  impatient  bay. — 
"Now,  Jim,  let  go.  Never  allow  anybody  to 
hold  a  horse  for  you  when  you  mount.  That's 
highly  unprofessional,  sir.  That'll  do."  And, 
so  saying,  he  swung  himself  into  saddle,  and, 
checking  the  bounds  of  his  excited  colt,  rode 
calmly  away  to  join  the  battery. 

Already  the  bandsmen  were  marching  through 


34  WARING' S  PERIL. 

the  north  gate  on  the  way  to  the  broad  open 
field  in  which  the  manoeuvres  were  held.  The 
adjutant,  sergeant-major,  and  markers  were  fol 
lowing.  Just  outside  the  gate  the  post  com 
mander  was  seated  on  horsehack,  and  Cram  had 
reined  in  to  speak  with  him.  Now,  in  his 
blithest,  cheeriest  tones,  "Waring  accosted  them, 
raising  his  hand  in  salute  as  he  did  so : 

"  Good-morning,  colonel.  Good-morning,  Cap 
tain  Cram.  We're  in  luck  to-day.  Couldn't 
possibly  have  lovelier  weather.  I'm  only  sorry 
this  came  off  so  suddenly  and  I  hadn't  time  to 
invite  our  friends  out  from  town.  They  would 
have  been  so  pleased  to  see  the  battalionj — the 
ceremonies." 

"  H'm !  There  was  plenty  of  time  if  you'd 
returned  to  the  post  at  retreat  yesterday,  sir," 
growled  old  Braxton.  "Everybody  was  noti 
fied  who  was  here  then.  What  time  did  you 
get  back,  sir  ?" 

"Upon  my  word,  colonel,  I  don't  know.  I 
never  thought  to  look  or  inquire;  but  it  was 
long  after  taps.  Pardon  me,  though,  I  see  I'm 
late  inspecting."  And  in  a  moment  he  was 
riding  quietly  around  among  his  teams  and 
guns,  narrowly  scrutinizing  each  toggle,  trace, 


WARING'S  PERIL.  35 

and  strap  before  taking  station  midway  between 
his  lead  drivers,  and  then,  as  Cram  approached, 
reporting,  "  Left  section  ready,  sir." 

Meantime,  the  infantry  companies  were  march 
ing  out  through  the  gate  and  then  ordering  arms 
and  resting  until  adjutant's  call  should  sound. 
Drivers  and  cannoneers  were  dismounted  to 
await  the  formation  of  the  battalion  line.  Wa 
ring  rode  forward  and  in  the  most  jovial  off 
hand  way  began  telling  Cram  of  the  incidents  of 
the  previous  day  and  his  sight-seeing  with  the 
party  of  visitors  from  the  North. 

"  By  the  way,  I  promised  Mr.  Allerton  that 
they  should  see  that  team  of  yours  before  they 
left :  so,  if  you've  no  objection,  the  first  morn 
ing  you're  on  duty  and  can't  go  up,  I'll  take 
advantage  of  your  invitation  and  drive  Miss 
Allerton  myself.  Doesn't  that  court  adjourn 
this  week?" 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  said  Cram,  grimly.  "It- 
looks  as  though  we'd  have  to  sit  to-day  and 
to-morrow  both." 

"Well,  that's  too  bad!  They  all  want  to 
meet  you  again.  Couldn't  you  come  up  this 
evening  after  stables  ?  Hello !  this  won't  do ; 
our  infantry  friends  will  be  criticising  us :  I  see 


36  WARINQ'S  PERIL. 

you're  wearing  gloves,  and  I'm  in  gauntlets. 
So  is  Doyle.  We  can't  fit  him  out,  I'm  afraid, 
but  I've  just  got  some  from  !N"ew  York  exactly 
like  yours.  I'll  trot  back  while  we're  waiting, 
if  you  don't  object,  and  change  them." 

Cram  didn't  want  to  say  yes,  yet  didn't  like 
to  say  no.  He  hesitated,  and — was  lost.  In 
another  moment,  as  though  never  imagining  re 
fusal  were  possible,  Waring  had  quickly  ridden 
away  through  the  gate  and  disappeared  behind 
the  high  brick  wall. 

When  the  bugle  sounded  "mount,"  three 
minutes  later,  and  the  battery  broke  into  column 
of  pieces  to  march  away  to  the  manoeuvring 
grounds,  Mr.  Ferry  left  the  line  of  caissons  and 
took  command  of  the  rear  section.  All  that 
the  battery  saw  of  Waring  or  his  mount  the 
rest  of  the  morning  was  just  after  reaching  the 
line,  when  the  fiery  colt  came  tearing  riderless 
around  the  field,  joyously  dodging  every  attempt 
of  the  spectators  to  catch  him,  and  revelling  in 
the  delight  of  kicking  up  his  heels  and  showing 
off  in  the  presence  and  sight  of  his  envious 
friends  in  harness.  Plunge  though  they  might, 
the  horses  could  not  join ;  dodge  though  they 
might,  the  bipeds  could  not  catch  him.  Review, 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  37 

inspection,  and  the  long  ceremonials  of  the 
morning  went  off  without  the  junior  first  lieu 
tenant  of  Battery  "  X,"  who,  for  his  part,  went 
off  without  ceremony  of  any  kind,  Cram's 
stylish  team  and  wagon  with  him.  That  after 
noon  he  reappeared  driving  about  the  barrack 
square,  a  pretty  girl  at  his  side,  both  engrossed 
in  the  music  of  the  band  and  apparently  obliv 
ious  of  the  bottled-up  wrath  of  either  battery  or 
post  commander. 

"Be  gorra!"  said  Doyle,  "I'd  like  to  be  in 
his  place  now,  provided  I  didn't  have  to  be  in  it 
to-morrow." 

But  when  the  morrow  came  there  came  no 
"Waring  with  it. 


38  WARINQ'S  PERIL. 


CHAPTER   IL 

FOR  twenty-four  hours  old  Brax  had  been 
mad  as  a  hornet.  He  was  not  much  of  a  drill- 
master  or  tactician,  but  he  thought  he  was,  and 
it  delighted  him  to  put  his  battalion  through 
the  form  of  review,  the  commands  for  which  he 
had  memorized  thoroughly  and  delivered  with 
resonant  voice  and  with  all  proper  emphasis. 
What  he  did  not  fancy,  and  indeed  could  not  do, 
was  the  drudge-work  of  teaching  the  minutiae 
of  the  school  of  the  battalion,  explaining  each 
movement  before  undertaking  its  execution. 
This  was  a  matter  he  delegated  to  one  of  his 
senior  captains.  For  a  week,  therefore,  in 
preparation  for  a  possible  visit  on  the  part  of 
the  new  brigadier-general  or  his  inspector,  the 
six  companies  of  the  regiment  stationed  at  the 
post  had  been  fairly  well  schooled  in  the  cere 
monies  of  review  and  parade,  and  so  long  as 
nothing  more  was  required  of  them  than  a 
march  past  in  quick  time  and  a  ten  minutes' 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  39 

stand  in  line  all  might  go  well.  The  general 
had  unexpectedly  appeared  one  evening  with 
only  a  single  aide-de-camp,  simply,  as  he  ex 
plained,  to  return  the  calls  of  the  officers  of  the 
garrison,  six  or  eight  of  whom  had  known 
enough  to  present  themselves  and  pay  their 
respects  in  person  when  he  arrived  in  town. 
Braxton  swelled  with  gratified  pride  at  the  gen 
eral's  praise  of  the  spick-span  condition  of  the 
parade,  the  walks,  roads,  and  visible  quarters. 
But  it  was  the  very  first  old-time  garrison  the 
new  chief  had  ever  seen,  a  splendid  fighting 
record  with  the  volunteers  during  the  war,  and 
the  advantage  of  taking  sides  for  the  Union  from 
a  doubtful  State,  having  conspired  to  win  him  a 
star  in  the  regular  service  only  a  year  or  two 
before. 

"We  would  have  had  out  the  battery  and 
given  you  a  salute,  sir,"  said  Brax,  "had  we 
known  you  were  coming;  but  it's  after  retreat 
now.  Next  time,  general,  if  you'll  ride  down 
some  day,  I'll  be  proud  to  give  you  a  review  of 
the  whole  command.  "We  have  a  great  big  field 
back  here." 

And  the  general  had  promised  to  come.  This 
necessitated  combined  preparation,  hence  the 


40  WAKING'S   PERIL. 

order  for  full-dress  rehearsal  with  battery  and 
all,  and  then  came  confusion.  Fresh  from  the 
command  of  his  beautiful  horse-battery  and  the 
dashing  service  with  a  cavalry  division,  Cram 
hated  the  idea  of  limping  along,  as  he  expressed 
it,  behind  a  battalion  of  foot,  and  said  so,  and 
somebody  told  Brax  he  had  said  so, — more  than 
one  somebody,  probably,  for  Brax  had  many 
an  adviser  to  help  keep  him  in  trouble.  The 
order  that  Cram  should  appear  for  instruction 
in  review  of  infantry  and  artillery  combined 
gave  umbrage  to  the  battery  commander,  and 
his  reported  remarks  thereupon,  renewed  cause 
for  displeasure  to  his  garrison  chief. 

"  So  far  as  we're  concerned,"  said  Cram,  who 
wanted  to  utilize  the  good  weather  for  battery 
drill,  "  we  need  no  instruction,  as  we  have  done 
the  trick  time  and  again  before;  and  if  we 
hadn't,  who  in  the  bloody  Fifty-First  is  there  to 
teach  us  ?  Certainly  not  old  Brax." 

All  the  same  the  order  was  obeyed,  and  Cram 
started  out  that  loveliest  of  lovely  spring  morn 
ings  not  entirely  innocent  of  the  conviction  that 
he  and  his  fellows  were  going  to  have  some 
fun  out  of  the  thing  before  they  got  through 
with  it.  Not  that  he  purposed  putting  any 


WARIXG'S  PERIL.  41 

hitch  or  impediment  in  the  way.  He  meant  to 
do  just  exactly  as  he  was  bid;  and  so,  when 
adjutant's  call  had  sounded  and  the  blue  lines 
of  the  infantry  were  well  out  on  the  field,  he 
followed  in  glittering  column  of  pieces,  his 
satin-coated  horses  dancing  in  sheer  exuberance 
of  spirits  and  his  red-crested  cannoneers  sitting 
with  folded  arms,  erect  and  statuesque,  upon 
the  ammunition-chests.  Mrs.  Cram,  in  her 
pretty  basket  phaeton,  with  Mrs.  Lawrence,  of 
the  infantry,  and  several  of  the  ladies  of  the 
garrison  in  ambulances  or  afoot,  had  taken 
station  well  to  the  front  of  the  forming  line. 
Then  it  became  apparent  that  old  Brax  pur 
posed  to  figure  as  the  reviewing  officer  and  had 
delegated  Major  Minor  to  command  the  troops. 
Now,  Minor  had  been  on  mustering  and  dis 
bursing  duty  most  of  the  war,  had  never  figured 
in  a  review  with  artillery  before,  and  knew  no 
more  about  battery  tactics  than  Cram  did  of 
diplomacy.  Mounted  on  a  sedate  old  sorrel, 
borrowed  from  the  quartermaster  for  the  occa 
sion,  with  an  antiquated,  brass-bound  Jenifer 
saddle,  minus  breast-strap  and  housings  of  any 
kind,  but  equipped  with  his  better  half's  brown 
leather  bridle,  Minor  knew  perfectly  well  he 
4* 


42  WARING'S  PERIL. 

was  only  a  guy,  and  felt  indignant  at  Brax  for 
putting  him  in  so  false  a  plight.  He  took  his 
station,  however,  in  front  of  the  regimental 
colors,  without  stopping  to  think  where  the 
centre  of  the  line  might  be  after  the  battery 
came,  and  there  awaited  further  developments. 
Cram  kept  nobody  waiting,  however :  his  lead 
ing  team  was  close  at  the  nimble  heels  of  Captain 
Lawrence's  company  as  it  marched  gayly  forth 
to  the  music  of  the  band.  He  formed  sections 
at  the  trot  the  instant  the  ground  was  clear,  then 
wheeled  into  line,  passed  well  to  the  rear  of  the 
prolongation  of  the  infantry  rank,  and  by  a 
beautiful  countermarch  came  up  to  the  front  and 
halted  exactly  at  the  instant  that  Lawrence,  with 
the  left  flank  company,  reached  his  post,  each 
caisson  accurately  in  trace  of  its  piece,  each 
team  and  carriage  exactly  at  its  proper  interval, 
and  with  his  crimson  silk  guidon  on  the  right 
flank  and  little  Pierce  signalling  "up"  or 
"back"  from  a  point  outside  where  he  could 
verify  the  alignment  of  the  gun-wheels  on  the 
rank  of  the  infantry,  Cram  was  able  to  com 
mand  "  front"  before  little  Drake,  the  adjutant, 
should  have  piped  out  his  shrill  "  Guides  posts." 
But  Drake  didn't  pipe.  There  stood  all  the 


WARING'S  PERIL.  43 

companies  at  support,  each  captain  at  the  inner 
flank,  and  the  guides  with  their  inverted  mus 
kets  still  stolidly  gazing  along  the  line.  It  was 
time  for  him  to  pipe,  but,  instead  of  so  doing, 
there  he  stuck  at  the  extreme  right,  glaring 
down  towards  the  now  immovable  battery  and 
its  serene  commander,  and  the  little  adjutant's 
face  was  getting  redder  and  puffier  every  minute. 

"  Go  ahead !  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?" 
hoarsely  whispered  the  senior  captain. 

"  Waiting  for  the  battery  to  dress,"  was  the 
stanch  reply.  Then  aloud  the  shrill  voice  swept 
down  the  line :  "Dress  that  battery  to  the  right!" 

Cram  looked  over  a  glittering  shoulder  to  the 
right  of  the  line,  where  stood  the  diminutive 
infantryman.  The  battery  had  still  its  war 
allowance  of  horses,  three  teams  to  each  car 
riage,  lead,  swing,  and  wheel,  and  that  brought 
its  captain  far  out  to  the  front  of  the  sombre 
blue  rank  of  foot, — so  far  out,  in  fact,  that  he  was 
about  on  line  with  Major  Minor,  though  facing 
in  opposite  direction.  Perfectly  confident  that 
he  was  exactly  where  he  should  be,  yet  equally 
determined  to  abide  by  any  order  he  might 
receive,  even  though  he  fully  understood  the 
cause  of  Drake's  delay,  Cram  promptly  rode 


44  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

over  to  the  guidon  and  ordered  "  Right  dress," 
at  which  every  driver's  head  and  eyes  were 
promptly  turned,  but  not  an  inch  of  a  wheel, 
for  the  alignment  simply  could  not  be  improved. 
Then  after  commanding  "  front"  the  captain  as 
deliberately  trotted  back  to  his  post  without  so 
much  as  a  glance  at  the  irate  staff  officer.  It 
was  just  at  this  juncture  that  the  bay  colt  came 
tearing  down  the  field,  his  mane  and  tail 
streaming  in  the  breeze,  his  reins  and  stirrups 
dangling.  In  the  course  of  his  gyrations  about 
the  battery  and  the  sympathetic  plunging  of 
the  teams  some  slight  disarrangement  occurred. 
But  when  he  presently  decided  on  a  rush  for 
the  stables,  the  captain  re-established  the  align 
ment  as  coolly  as  before,  and  only  noticed  as  he 
resumed  his  post  that  the  basket  phaeton  and 
Mrs.  Cram  had  gone.  Alarmed,  possibly,  by 
the  non-appearance  of  her  warm  friend  Mr. 
Waring  and  the  excited  gambolings  of  his 
vagrant  steed,  she  had  promptly  driven  back  to 
the  main  garrison  to  see  if  any  accident  had 
occurred,  the  colt  meantime  amusing  himself 
in  a  game  of  fast-and-loose  with  the  stable 
guard. 
Then  it  was  that  old  Brax  came  down  and 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  45 

took  a  hand.    Riding  to  where  Minor  still  sat  on 
his  patient  sorrel,  the  senior  bluntly  inquired, — 

"  What  the  devil's  the  matter  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Minor. 

"  Who  does  know  ?" 

"Well,  Drake,  possibly,  or  else  he  doesn't 
know  anything.  He's  been  trying  to  get  Cram 
to  dress  his  battery  back." 

"Why,  yes,  confound  it!  he's  a  mile  ahead 
of  the  line,"  said  the  colonel,  and  off  he  trotted 
to  expostulate  with  the  batteryman.  "  Captain 
Cram,  isn't  there  room  for  your  battery  back  of 
the  line  instead  of  in  front  of  it?"  inquired  the 
chief,  in  tone  both  aggrieved  and  aggressive. 

"  Lots,  sir,"  answered  Cram,  cheerfully. 
"  Just  countermarched  there." 

"  Then  I  wish  you'd  oblige  me  by  moving 
back  at  once,  sir:  you're  delaying  the  whole 
ceremony  here.  I'm  told  Mr.  Drake  has  twice 
ordered  you  to  dress  to  the  right." 

"I've  heard  it,  sir,  only  once,  but  have 
dressed  twice,  so  it's  all  right,"  responded  Cram, 
as  affably  as  though  he  had  no  other  aim  in 
life  than  to  gratify  the  whims  of  his  post  com 
mander. 

"  Why,  confound  it,  sir,  it  isn't  all  right  by  a 


46  WARING 'S  PERIL. 

da good  deal !  Here  you  are  'way  out  on 

line  with  Major  Minor,  and  your  battery's 

why,  it  isn't  dressed  on  our  rank  at  all,  sir. 
Just  look  at  it." 

Cram  resumed  the  carry  with  the  sabre  he 
had  lowered  in  salute,  calmly  reversed  so  as  to 
face  his  battery,  and,  with  preternatural  gravity 
of  mien,  looked  along  his  front.  There  midway 
between  his  lead  drivers  sat  Mr.  Doyle,  his  face 
well-nigh  as  red  as  his  plume,  his  bleary  eyes 
nearly  popping  out  of  his  skull  in  his  effort  to 
repress  the  emotions  excited  by  this  colloquy. 
There  midway  between  the  lead  drivers  in  the 
left  section  sat  Mr.  Ferry,  gazing  straight  to 
the  front  over  the  erected  ears  of  his  handsome 
bay  and  doing  his  very  best  to  keep  a  solemn 
face,  though  the  unshaded  corners  of  his  boyish 
mouth  were  twitching  with  mischief  and  merri 
ment.  There,  silent,  disciplined,  and  rigid,  sat 
the  sergeants,  drivers,  and  cannoneers  of  famous 
old  Light  Battery  "  X,"  all  agog  with  interest  in 
the  proceedings  and  all  looking  as  though  they 
never  heard  a  word. 

"  I  declare,  sir,"  said  Cram,  with  exasperating 
civility,  "  I  can  see  nothing  out  of  the  way. 
Will  you  kindly  indicate  what  is  amiss  ?" 


WARING'S  PERIL.  47 

This  was  too  much  for  Ferry.  In  his  effort 
to  restrain  his  merriment  and  gulp  down  a 
rising  flood  of  laughter  there  was  heard  an  ex 
plosion  that  sounded  something  like  the  sud 
den  collapse  of  an  inflated  paper  bag,  and  old 
Brax,  glaring  angrily  at  the  boy,  now  red  in 
the  face  with  mingled  mirth  and  consternation, 
caught  sudden  idea  from  the  sight.  Was  the 
battery  laughing  at — was  the  battery  com 
mander  guying— him  ?  Was  it  possible  that 
they  were  profiting  by  his  ignorance  of  their 
regulations  ?  It  put  him  on  his  guard  and  sug 
gested  a  tentative. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  are  right  in  being  so 
far  ahead  of  our  line  instead  of  dressed  upon  it  ?" 
asked  he  of  the  big  blond  soldier  in  the  glitter 
ing  uniform.  "Where  do  you  find  authority 
for  it?" 

"  Oh,  perfectly  right,  colonel.  In  fact,  for  six 
years  past  I've  never  seen  it  done  any  other 
way.  You'll  find  the  authority  on  page  562, 
Field  Artillery  Tactics  of  1864." 

For  a  moment  Brax  was  dumb ;  he  had  long 
heard  of  Cram  as  an  expert  in  his  own  branch 
of  the  service ;  but  presently  he  burst  forth : 

"  Well,  in  our  tactics  there's  reason  for  every 


48  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

blessed  thing  we  do,  but  I'll  be  dinged  if  I  can 
see  rhyme  or  reason  in  such  a  formation  as  that. 
"Why,  sir,  your  one  company  takes  up  more  room 
than  my  six, — makes  twice  as  much  of  a  show. 
Of  course  if  a  combined  review  is  to  show  off 
the  artillery  it's  all  very  well.  However,  go 
ahead,  if  you  think  you're  right,  sir ;  go  ahead ! 
I'll  inquire  into  this  later." 

"  I  know  we're  right,  colonel ;  and  as  for  the 
reason,  you'll  see  it  when  you  open  ranks  for 
review  and  we  come  to  ' action  front:'  then  our 
line  will  be  exactly  that  of  the  infantry.  Mean 
time,  sir,  it  isn't  for  us  to  go  ahead.  "We've  gone 
as  far  as  we  can  until  your  adjutant  makes  the 
next  move." 

But  Braxton  had  ridden  away  disgusted  before 
Cram  wound  up  his  remarks. 

"Go  on,  Major  Minor;  just  run  this  thing 
without  reference  to  the  battery.  Damned  if  I 
understand  their  methods.  Let  Cram  look  after 
his  own  affairs;  if  he  goes  wrong,  why — it's 
none  of  our  concern." 

And  so  Minor  had  nodded  "Go  ahead"  to  Mr. 
Drake,  and  presently  the  whole  command  made 
its  bow,  so  to  speak,  to  Minor  as  its  immediate 
chief,  and  then  he  drew  sword  and  his  untried 


WARINQ'S   PERIL.  49 

voice  became  faintly  audible.  The  orders  "  Pre 
pare  for  review"  and  "  To  the  rear  open  order" 
were  instantly  followed  by  a  stentorian  "  Action 
front"  down  at  the  left,  the  instant  leap  and  rush 
of  some  thirty  nimble  cannoneers,  shouts  of 
"Drive  on!"  the  cracking  of  whips,  the  thunder 
and  rumble  of  wheels,  the  thud  of  plunging 
hoofs.  Forty-eight  mettlesome  horses  in  teams 
of  two  abreast  went  dancing  briskly  away  to 
the  rear,  at  sight  of  which  Minor  dropped  his 
jaw  and  the  point  of  his  sword  and  sat  gazing 
blankly  after  them,  over  the  bowed  head  of  his 
placid  sorrel,  wondering  what  on  earth  it  meant 
that  they  should  all  be  running  away  at  the  very 
instant  when  he  expected  them  to  brace  up  for 
review.  But  before  he  could  give  utterance  to 
his  thoughts  eight  glossy  teams  in  almost  simul 
taneous  sweep  to  the  left  about  came  sharply 
around  again.  The  black  muzzles  of  the  guns 
were  pointed  to  the  front,  every  axle  exactly  in 
the  prolongation  of  his  front  rank,  every  little 
group  of  red-topped,  red-trimmed  cannoneers 
standing  erect  and  square,  the  chiefs  of  section 
and  of  pieces  sitting  like  statues  on  their  hand 
some  horses,  the  line  of  limbers  accurately 
covering  the  guns,  and,  still  farther  back,  Mr. 
c  d  5 


50  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

Pierce  could  be  heard  shouting  his  orders  for  the 
alignment  of  the  caissons.  In  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye  the  rush  and  thunder  were  stilled,  the 
battery  without  the  twitch  of  a  muscle  stood 
ready  for  review,  and  old  Brax,  sitting  in  saddle 
at  the  reviewing  point,  watching  the  stirring 
sight  with  gloomy  and  cynical  eye,  was  chafed 
still  more  to  hear  in  a  silvery  voice  from  the 
group  of  ladies  the  unwelcome  words,  "  Oh, 
wasn't  that  pretty!"  He  meant  with  all  his 
heart  to  pull  in  some  of  the  plumage  of  those 
confounded  "  woodpeckers,"  as  he  called  them, 
before  the  day  was  over. 

In  grim  silence,  therefore,  he  rode  along  the 
front  of  the  battalion,  taking  little  comfort  in 
the  neatness  of  their  quaint  old-fashioned  garb, 
the  single-breasted,  long-skirted  frock-coats,  the 
bulging  black  felt  hats  looped  up  on  one  side 
and  decked  with  skimpy  black  feather,  the  glis 
tening  shoulder-scales  and  circular  breastplates, 
the  polish  of  their  black  leather  belts,  cartridge- 
and  cap-boxes  and  bayonet-scabbards.  It  was 
all  trim  and  soldierly,  but  he  was  bottling  up  his 
sense  of  annoyance  for  the  benefit  of  Cram  and 
his  people.  Yet  what  could  he  say?  Neither 
he  nor  Minor  had  ever  before  been  brought  into 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  61 

such  relations  with  the  light  artillery,  and  he 
simply  didn't  know  where  to  hit.  Lots  of  things 
looked  queer,  but  after  this  initial  experience  he 
felt  it  best  to  say  nothing  until  he  could  light  on 
a  point  that  no  one  could  gainsay,  and  he  found 
it  in  front  of  the  left  section. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Waring,  sir?"  he  sternly 
asked. 

"I  wish  I  knew,  colonel.  His  horse  came 
back  without  him,  as  you  doubtless  saw,  and,  as 
he  hasn't  appeared,  I'm  afraid  of  accident." 

"  How  did  he  come  to  leave  his  post,  sir  ?  I 
have  no  recollection  of  authorizing  anything  of 
the  kind." 

"  Certainly  not,  colonel.  He  rode  back  to  his 
quarters  with  my  consent  before  adjutant's  call 
had  sounded,  and  he  should  have  been  with  us 
again  in  abundant  time." 

"  That  young  gentleman  needs  more  discipline 
than  he  is  apt  to  receive  at  this  rate,  Captain 
Cram,  and  I  desire  that  you  pay  closer  attention 
to  his  movements  than  you  have  done  in  the 
past. — Mr.  Drake,"  he  said  to  his  adjutant,  who 
was  tripping  around  after  his  chief  afoot,  "  call 
on  Mr.  Waring  to  explain  his  absence  in  writing 
and  without  delay. — This  indifference  to  duty  is 


52  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

something  to  which  I  am  utterly  unaccustomed," 
continued  Braxton,  again  addressing  Cram,  who 
preserved  a  most  uncompromising  serenity  of 
countenance;  and  with  this  parting  shot  the 
colonel  turned  gruffly  away  and  soon  retook  his 
station  at  the  reviewing  point. 

Then  came  the  second  hitch.  Minor  had  had 
no  experience  whatever,  as  has  been  said,  and 
he  first  tried  to  wheel  into  column  of  companies 
without  closing  ranks,  whereupon  every  captain 
promptly  cautioned  "  Stand  fast,"  and  thereby 
banished  the  last  remnant  of  Minor's  senses. 
Seeing  that  something  was  wrong,  he  tried 
again,  this  time  prefacing  with  "Pass  in  re 
view,"  and  still  the  captains  were  implacable. 
The  nearest  one,  in  a  stage  whisper,  tried  to 
make  the  major  hear  "  Close  order,  first."  But 
all  the  time  Brax  was  losing  more  of  his  temper 
and  Minor  what  was  left  of  his  head,  and  Brax 
came  down  like  the  wolf  on  the  fold,  gave  the 
command  to  "  Close  order"  himself,  and  was 
instantly  echoed  by  Cram's  powerful  shout 
"  Limber  to  the  rear,"  followed  by  "  Pieces  left 
about!  Caissons  forward!"  Then  in  the  rum 
ble  and  clank  of  the  responding  battery,  Minor's 
next  command  was  heard  by  only  the  right 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  53 

wing  of  the  battalion,  and  the  company  wheels 
were  ragged.  So  was  the  next  part  of  the  per 
formance  when  he  started  to  march  in  review, 
never  waiting,  of  course,  for  the  battery  to 
wheel  into  column  of  sections.  This  omission, 
however,  in  no  wise  disconcerted  Cram,  who, 
following  at  rapid  walk,  soon  gained  on  the  rear 
of  column,  passing  his  post  commander  in  beau 
tiful  order  and  with  most  accurate  salute  on  the 
part  of  himself  and  officers,  and,  observing  this, 
Minor  took  heart,  and,  recovering  his  senses  to 
a  certain  extent,  gave  the  command  "Guide 
left"  in  abundant  time  to  see  that  the  new 
guides  were  accurately  in  trace,  thereby  insur 
ing  what  he  expected  to  find  a  beautiful  wheel 
into  line  to  the  left,  the  commands  for  which 
movement  he  gave  in  louder  and  more  confident 
tone,  but  was  instantly  nonplussed  by  seeing  the 
battery  wheel  into  line  to  the  right  and  move  off 
in  exactly  the  opposite  direction  from  what  he 
had  expected.  This  was  altogether  too  much 
for  his  equanimity.  Digging  his  spurs  into  the 
flanks  of  the  astonished  sorrel,  he  darted  off 
after  Cram,  waving  his  sword,  and  shouting, — 

"  Left  into  line  wheel,  captain.     Left  into  line 
wheel." 

6* 


64  WARIXG'S  PERIL 

In  vain  Mr.  Pierce  undertook  to  explain 
matters.  Minor  presumed  that  the  artilleryman 
had  made  an  actual  blunder  and  was  only 
enabled  to  correct  it  by  a  countermarch,  and  so 
rode  back  to  his  position  in  front  of  the  centre 
of  the  reforming  line,  convinced  that  at  last  he 
had  caught  the  battery  commander. 

"When  Braxton,  therefore,  came  down  to 
make  his  criticisms  arid  comments  upon  the 
conduct  of  the  review,  Minor  was  simply 
amazed  to  find  that  instead  of  being  in  error 
Cram  had  gone  exactly  right  and  as  prescribed 
by  his  drill  regulations  in  wheeling  to  the  right 
and  gaining  ground  to  the  rear  before  coming 
up  on  the  line.  He  almost  peevishly  declared 
that  he  wished  the  colonel,  if  he  proposed 
having  a  combined  review,  would  assume  com 
mand  himself,  as  he  didn't  care  to  be  bothered 
with  combination  tactics  of  which  he  had  never 
had  previous  knowledge.  Being  of  the  same 
opinion,  Braxton  himself  took  hold,  and  the 
next  performance,  though  somewhat  erroneous 
in  many  respects,  was  a  slight  improvement  on 
the  first,  though  Braxton  did  not  give  time  for 
the  battery  to  complete  one  movement  before  he 
would  rush  it  into  another.  When  the  oflicera 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  65 

assembled  to  compare  notes  during  the  rest 
after  the  second  repetition,  Minor  growled  that 
this  was  "  a  little  better,  yet  not  good,"  which 
led  to  some  one  suggesting  in  low  tone  that  the 
major  got  his  positives  and  comparatives  worse 
mixed  than  his  tactics,  and  inquiring  further 
"whether  it  might  not  be  well  to  dub  him 
Minor  Major."  The  laughter  that  followed  this 
sally  naturally  reached  the  ears  of  the  seniors, 
and  so  Brax  never  let  up  on  the  command  until 
the  review  went  off  without  an  error  of  any 
appreciable  weight,  without,  in  fact,  "  a  hitch  in 
the  fut  or  an  unhitch  in  the  harse,"  as  Doyle  ex 
pressed  it.  It  was  high  noon  when  the  battalion 
got  back  to  barracks  and  the  officers  hung  out 
their  moist  clothing  to  dry  in  the  sun.  It  was 
near  one  when  the  batterymen,  officers  and  all, 
came  steaming  up  from  the  stables,  and  there 
was  the  colonel's  orderly  with  the  colonel's  com 
pliments  and  desires  to  see  Captain  Cram  before 
the  big  battery  man  had  time  to  change  his  dress. 
Braxton's  first  performance  on  getting  into 
cool  habiliments  was  to  go  over  to  his  office 
and  hunt  through  the  book-shelves  for  a  volume 
in  which  he  never  before  had  felt  the  faintest 
interest,— the  Light  Artillery  Tactics  of  1864. 


56  WARING'S  PERIL. 

There  on  his  desk  lay  a  stack  of  mail  unopened, 
and  Mr.  Drake  was  already  silently  inditing  the 
summary  note  to  the  culprit  Waring.  Brax 
wanted  first  to  see  with  his  own  eyes  the  in 
structions  for  light  artillery  when  reviewed  with 
other  troops,  vaguely  hoping  that  there  might 
still  be  some  point  on  which  to  catch  his  foeman 
on  the  hip.  But  if  there  were  he  did  not  find 
it.  He  was  tactician  enough  to  see  that  even  if 
Cram  had  formed  with  his  leading  drivers  on 
line  with  the  infantry,  as  Braxton  thought  he 
should  have  done,  neither  of  the  two  methods 
of  forming  into  battery  would  then  have  got  his 
guns  where  they  belonged.  Cram's  interpre 
tation  of  the  text  was  backed  by  the  custom 
of  service,  and  there  was  no  use  criticising  it 
farther.  And  so,  after  discontentedly  hunting 
through  the  dust-covered  pages  awhile  in  hopes 
of  stumbling  on  some  codicil  or  rebuttal,  the 
colonel  shut  it  with  a  disgusted  snap  and  tossed 
the  offending  tome  on  the  farthest  table.  At 
that  moment  Brax  could  have  wished  the  board 
of  officers  who  prepared  the  Light  Artillery 
Tactics  in  the  nethermost  depths  of  the  neigh 
boring  swamp.  Then  he  turned  on  his  silent 
staff  officer, — a  not  unusual  expedient. 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  57 

""  Why  on  earth,  Mr.  Drake,  didn't  you  look 
up  that  point,  instead  of  making  such  a  break 
before  the  whole  command  ?" 

"  I  couldn't  find  anything  about  it  in  Casey, 
sir,  anywhere,"  replied  the  perturbed  young 
man.  "  I  didn't  know  where  else  to  look." 

"  Well,  you  might  have  asked  Mr.  Ferry  or 
Mr.  Pierce.  The  Lord  knows  you  waste  enough 
time  with  'em." 

"  You  might  have  asked  Captain  Cram,"  was 
what  Drake  wanted  to  say,  but  wisely  did  not. 
He  bit  the  end  of  his  penholder  instead,  and 
bridled  his  tongue  and  temper. 

"  The  next  time  I  have  a  review  with  a 
mounted  battery,  by  George !"  said  the  post 
commander,  finally,  bringing  his  fist  down  on 
the  table  with  a  crash,  "I  just — won't  have  it." 

He  had  brought  down  the  pile  of  letters  as 
well  as  his  fist,  and  Drake  sprang  to  gather 
them,  replacing  them  on  the  desk  and  dexter 
ously  slipping  a  paper-cutter  under  the  flap  of 
each  envelope  as  he  did  so.  At  the  very  first 
note  he  opened,  Brax  threw  himself  back  in  his 
chair  with  a  long  whistle  of  mingled  amaze 
ment  and  concern,  then  turned  suddenly  on  his 
adjutant. 


58  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

u  What  became  of  Mr.  Waring  ?  He  wasn't 
hurt?" 

"  Not  a  bit,  sir,  that  I  know  of.  He  drove  to 
town  with  Captain  Cram's  team, — at  least  I  was 
told  so, — and  left  that  note  for  you  there,  sir." 

"He  did! — left  the  post  and  left  a  note  for 

me  ?  Why ! "  But  here  Braxton  broke  off 

short,  tore  open  the  note,  and  read : 

"  MY  DEAR  COLONEL, — I  trust  you  will  over 
look  the  informality  of  my  going  to  town  with 
out  previously  consulting  you.  I  had  purposed, 
of  course,  asking  your  permission,  but  the  mis 
hap  that  befell  me  in  the  runaway  of  my  horse 
prevented  my  appearance  at  the  review,  and 
had  I  waited  your  return  from  the  field  it 
would  have  compelled  me  to  break  my  engage 
ment  with  our  friends  the  Allertons.  Under  the 
circumstances  I  felt  sure  of  your  complaisance. 

"  As  I  hope  to  drive  Miss  Allerton  down  after 
the  mating  might  it  not  be  a  good  idea  to  have 
dress-parade  and  the  band  out?  They  have 
seen  the  battery  drills,  but  are  much  more  de 
sirous  of  seeing  the  infantry. 

"  Most  sincerely  yours, 

"  S.  G.  WARING." 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  59 

"  Well,  for  consummate  impudence  this  beats 
the  Jews !"  exclaimed  Brax.  "  Orderly,  my 
compliments  to  Captain  Cram,  and  say  I  wish 
to  see  him  at  once,  if  he's  back  from  stables." 

Now,  as  has  been  said,  Cram  had  had  no  time 
to  change  to  undress  uniform,  but  Mrs.  Cram 
had  received  the  orderly's  message,  had  in 
formed  that  martial  Mercury  that  the  captain 
was  not  yet  back  from  stables,  and  that  she 
would  tell  him  at  once  on  his  return.  "Well 
she  knew  that  mischief  was  brewing,  and  her 
woman's  wit  was  already  enlisted  in  behalf  of 
her  friend.  Hurriedly  pencilling  a  note,  she 
sent  a  messenger  to  her  liege,  still  busy  with  his 
horses,  to  bid  him  come  to  her,  if  only  for  a 
moment,  on  his  way  to  the  office.  And  when 
he  came,  heated,  tired,  but  bubbling  over  with 
eagerness  to  tell  her  of  the  fun  they  had  been 
having  with  Brax,  she  met  him  with  a  cool 
tankard  of  "  shandygaff,"  which  he  had  learned 
to  like  in  England  among  the  horse-artillery  fel 
lows,  and  declared  the  very  prince  of  drinks  after 
active  exercise  in  hot  weather.  He  quaffed  it 
eagerly,  flung  off  his  shako  and  kissed  her  grate 
fully,  and  burst  all  at  once  into  laughing  narra 
tion  of  the  morning's  work,  but  she  checked  him  : 


60  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

"  Ned,  dear,  don't  stop  for  that  yet.  I  know 
you're  too  full  of  tact  to  let  Colonel  Braxton  see 
it  was  any  fun  for  you,  and  he's  waiting  at 
the  office.  Something  tells  me  it's  about  Mr. 
Waring.  Now  put  yourself  in  Mr.  Waring's 
place.  Of  course  he  ought  never  to  have  made 
that  engagement  until  he  had  consulted  you,  but 
he  never  dreamed  that  there  would  be  a  review 
to-day,  and  so  he  invited  the  Allertons  to  break 
fast  with  him  at  Moreau's  and  go  to  the  matinte." 

"Why,  that  rascal  Ananias  said  it  was  to 
breakfast  at  the  general's,"  interrupted  the  bat 
tery  commander. 

"  Well,  perhaps  he  was  invited  there  too.  I 
believe  I  did  hear  something  of  that.  But  he 
had  made  this  arrangement  with  the  Allertons. 
Now,  of  course,  if  review  were  over  at  ten  he 
could  just  about  have  time  to  dress  and  catch 
the  eleven-o'clock  car,  but  that  would  make  it 
very  late,  and  when  Bay  Billy  broke  away  from 
Ananias  nobody  could  catch  him  for  over  half 
an  hour.  Mr.  Ferry  had  taken  the  section,  Mr. 

Waring  wasn't  needed,  and Why,  Ned, 

when  I  drove  in,  fearing  to  find  him  injured, 
and  saw  him  standing  there  the  picture  of  con 
sternation  and  despair,  and  he  told  me  about  his 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  61 

engagement,  I  said  myself,  '  Why  don't  you  go 
now  ?'  I  told  him  it  was  what  you  surely  would 
say  if  you  were  here.  Neither  of  us  thought 
the  colonel  would  object,  so  long  as  you  ap 
proved,  and  he  wrote  such  a  nice  note.  Why, 
Ned,  he  only  just  had  time  to  change  his  dress 
and  drive  up  with  Jeffers " 

"  With  Jeffers  ?  With  my — er — our  team  and 
wagon  ?  Well,  I  like " 

"  Of  course  you  like  it,  you  old  darling. 
She's  such  a  dear  girl,  though  just  a  little  bit 
gushing,  you  know.  Why,  I  said,  certainly  the 
team  should  go.  But,  Ned,  here's  what  I'm 
afraid  of.  Mrs.  Braxton  saw  it  drive  in  at  nine- 
thirty,  just  after  Billy  ran  away,  and  she  asked 
Jeffers  who  was  going,  and  he  told  her  Mr. 
Waring,  and  she  has  told  the  colonel,  I'll  wager. 
Now,  what  you  have  got  to  do  is  to  explain  that 
to  him,  so  that  he  won't  blame  Mr.  Waring." 

"The  dickens  I  have!  The  most  barefaced 
piece  of  impudence  even  Sam  Waring  was  ever 
guilty  of — to  me,  at  least,  though  I've  no  doubt 
he's  done  worse  a  dozen  times.  Why,  bless 
your  heart,  Nell,  how  can  I  explain?  You 
might,  but " 

"But  would  you  have  me  suppose  my  big 
6 


62  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

soldier  couldn't  handle  that  matter  as  well  as  I  ? 
No,  sir !  Go  and  do  it,  sir.  And,  mind  you, 
I'm  going  to  invite  them  all  up  here  to  the  gal 
lery  to  hear  the  band  play  and  have  a  cup  of  tea 
and  a  nibble  when  they  come  down  this  evening. 
He's  going  to  drive  the  Allertons  here." 

""Worse  and  more  of  it!  Why,  you  con 
spiracy  in  petticoats,  you'll  be  the  ruin  of  me ! 
Old  Brax  is  boiling  over  now.  If  he  dreams 
that  Waring  has  been  taking  liberties  with  him 
he'll  fetch  him  up  so  short " 

"  Exactly !  You  mustn't  let  him.  You  must 
tell  him  I  sent  him  up  with  your  team — yours, 
mind  you — to  keep  his  engagement,  since  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  come  back  to  re 
view  ground.  Of  course  he  wouldn't  expect 
him  to  appear  afoot." 

"Don't  know  about  that,  Nell.  I  reckon 
that's  the  way  he'll  order  out  the  whole  gang 
of  us  next  time.  He's  had  his  fill  of  mounted 
work  to-day." 

"  "Well,  if  he  should,  you  be  sure  to  acquiesce 
gracefully  now.  Whatsoever  you  do,  don't  let 
him  put  Mr.  Waring  in  arrest  while  Gwen 
Allerton  is  here.  It  would  spoil — everything." 

"Oh,  match-making,  is  it?    Then  I'll  try." 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  63 

And  so,  vexed,  but  laughing,  half  indignant,  yet 
wholly  subordinate  to  the  whim  of  his  beloved 
better  half,  the  captain  hastened  over,  and  found 
Colonel  Braxton  sitting  with  gloomy  brow  at 
his  littered  desk,  his  annoyance  of  the  morning 
evidently  forgotten  in  matters  more  serious. 

"  Oh — er — Cram,  come  in,  come  in,  man," 
said  he,  distractedly.  "  Here's  a  matter  I  want 
to  see  you  about.  It's — well,  just  take  that 
letter  and  read.  Sit  down,  sit  down.  Read, 
and  tell  me  what  we  ought  to  do  about  it." 

And  as  Cram's  blue  eyes  wandered  over  the 
written  page  they  began  to  dilate.  He  read 
from  start  to  finish,  and  then  dropped  his  head 
into  his  hand,  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  his  face 
full  of  perplexity  and  concern. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?  Is  there  any 
truth "  and  the  colonel  hesitated. 

"As  to  their  being  seen  together,  perhaps. 
As  to  the  other, — the  challenge, — I  don't  be 
lieve  it." 

"  Well,  Cram,  this  is  the  second  or  third  letter 
that  has  come  to  me  in  the  same  hand.  !S"ow, 
you  must  see  to  it  that  he  returns  and  doesn't 
quit  the  post  until  this  matter  is  arranged." 

"  I'll  attend  to  it,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 


64  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

And  so  that  evening,  while  "Waring  was 
slowly  driving  his  friends  about  the  shaded 
roads  under  the  glistening  white  pillars  of  the 
rows  of  officers'  quarters,  chatting  joyously  with 
them  and  describing  the  objects  so  strange  to 
their  eyes,  Mrs.  Cram's  "  little  foot-page"  came 
to  beg  that  they  should  alight  a  few  minutes 
and  take  a  cup  of  tea.  They  could  not.  The 
Allertons  were  engaged,  and  it  was  necessary  to 
drive  back  at  once  to  town,  but  they  stopped 
for  a  moment  to  chat  with  their  pretty  hostess 
under  the  gallery,  and  then  a  moment  later,  as 
they  rolled  out  of  the  resounding  sally-port,  an 
orderly  ran  up,  saluted,  and  slipped  a  note  in 
Waring's  hand. 

"  It  is  immediate,  sir,"  was  his  explanation. 

"  Ah !  Miss  Allerton,  will  you  pardon  me  one 
moment  ?"  said  Waring,  as  he  shifted  whip  and 
reins  into  the  left  hand  and  turned  coolly  up  the 
levee  road.  Then  with  the  right  he  forced  open 
and  held  up  the  missive. 

It  only  said,  "Whatsoever  you  do,  be  here 
before  taps  to-night.  Come  direct  to  me,  and 
I  will  explain. 

«  Your  friend, 
"  CKAM." 


WAR1N&S  PERIL.  65 

"  All  right,"  said  Waring,  aloud.  "  My  com 
pliments  to  the  captain,  and  say  I'll  be  with 
him." 

But  even  with  this  injunction  he  failed  to 
appear.  Midnight  came  without  a  word  from 
"Waring,  and  the  morning  dawned  and  found 
him  absent  still. 


66  WARING'S  PERIL. 


CHAPTER    III. 

IT  was  one  of  Sam  Waring's  oddities  that,  like 
the  hero  of  "  Happy  Thoughts,"  other  people's 
belongings  seemed  to  suit  him  so  much  better 
than  his  own.  The  most  immaculately  dressed 
man  in  the  regiment,  he  was  never  satisfied 
with  the  result  of  the  efforts  of  the  New  York 
artists  whom  he  favored  with  his  custom  and 
his  criticism.  He  would  wear  three  or  four 
times  a  new  coat  just  received  from  that  me 
tropolis,  and  spend  not  a  little  time,  when  not 
on  duty  or  in  uniform,  in  studying  critically  its 
cut  and  fit  in  the  various  mirrors  that  hung  about 
his  bachelor  den,  gayly  humming  some  operatic 
air  as  he  conducted  the  survey,  and  generally 
winding  up  with  a  wholesale  denunciation  of 
the  cutter  and  an  order  to  Ananias  to  go  over 
and  get  some  other  fellow's  coat,  that  he  might 
try  the  effect  of  that.  These  were  liberties  he 
took  only  with  his  chums  and  intimates,  to  be 
sure,  but  they  were  liberties  all  the  same,  and  it 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  67 

was  delicious  to  hear  the  laugh  with  which  he 
would  tell  how  Pierce  had  to  dress  in  uniform 
when  he  went  up  to  the  opera  Thursday  night, 
or  how,  after  he  had  worn  Ferry's  stylish  morn 
ing  suit  to  make  a  round  of  calls  in  town  and 
that  young  gentleman  later  on  went  up  to  see 
a  pretty  girl  in  whom  he  felt  a  growing  inter 
est,  her  hateful  little  sister  had  come  in  and 
commented  on  his  "borrowing  Mr.  Waring's 
clothes/'  No  man  in  the  battery  would  ever 
think  of  refusing  Sam  the  use  of  anything  he 
possessed,  and  there  were  half  a  dozen  young 
fellows  in  the  infantry  who  were  just  as  ready 
to  pay  tribute  to  his  whims.  Nor  was  it  among 
the  men  alone  that  he  found  such  indulgence. 
Mrs.  Cram  had  not  known  him  a  fortnight 
when,  with  twinkling  eyes  and  a  betraying 
twitch  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  he  ap 
peared  one  morning  to  say  he  had  invited  some 
friends  down  to  luncheon  at  the  officers'  mess 
and  the  mess  had  no  suitable  china,  therefore  he 
would  thank  her  to  send  over  hers,  also  some 
table-cloths  and  napkins,  and  forks  and  spoons. 
When  the  Forty- Sixth  Infantry  were  on  their 
way  to  Texas  and  the  officers'  families  were 
entertained  over-night  at  the  barracks  and  his 


68  WAKING'S   PERIL. 

rooms  were  to  be  occupied  by  the  wife,  sister, 
and  daughters  of  Captain  Craney,  Waring  sent 
the  battery  team  and  spring  wagon  to  town  with 
a  note  to  Mrs.  Converse,  of  the  staff,  telling  her 
the  ladies  had  said  so  much  about  the  lovely 
way  her  spare  rooms  were  furnished  that  he  had 
decided  to  draw  on  her  for  wash-bowls,  pitchers, 
mosquito-frames,  nets  and  coverlets,  blankets, 
pillows,  slips,  shams,  and  anything  else  she 
might  think  of.  And  Mrs.  Converse  loaded  up 
the  wagon  accordingly.  This  was  the  more 
remarkable  in  her  case  because  she  was  one  of 
the  women  with  whom  he  had  never  yet  danced, 
which  was  tantamount  to  saying  that  in  the 
opinion  of  this  social  bashaw  Mrs.  Converse  was 
not  considered  a  good  partner,  and,  as  the  lady 
entertained  very  different  views  on  that  subject 
and  was  passionately  fond  of  dancing,  she  had 
resented  not  a  little  the  line  thus  drawn  to  her 
detriment.  She  not  only  loaned,  however,  all 
he  asked  for,  but  begged  to  be  informed  if 
there  were  not  something  more  she  could  do  to 
help  entertain  his  visitors.  Waring  sent  her 
some  lovely  flowers  the  next  week,  but  failed  to 
take  her  out  even  once  at  the  staff  german. 
Mrs.  Cram  was  alternately  aghast  and  delighted 


WARIXG'S  PERIL  69 

at  what  she  perhaps  justly  called  his  incom 
parable  impudence.  They  were  coming  out  of 
church  together  one  lovely  morning  during  the 
winter.  There  was  a  crowd  in  the  vestibule. 
Street  dresses  were  then  worn  looped,  yet  there 
was  a  sudden  sound  of  rip,  rent,  and  tear,  and  a 
portly  woman  gathered  up  the  trailing  skirt  of 
a  costly  silken  gown  and  whirled  with  annihila 
tion  in  her  eyes  upon  the  owner  of  the  offending 
foot. 

"  That  is  far  too  elegant  a  skirt  to  be  worn 
unlooped,  madame,"  said  Mrs.  Cram's  imper 
turbable  escort,  in  his  most  suave  and  dulcet 
tones,  lifting  a  glossy  silk  hat  and  bowing  pro 
foundly.  And  Mrs.  Cram  laughed  all  the  way 
back  to  barracks  at  the  recollection  of  the  utter 
discomfiture  in  the  woman's  face. 

These  are  mere  specimen  bricks  from  the 
fabric  which  "Waring  had  builded  in  his  few 
months  of  artillery  service.  The  limits  of  the 
story  are  all  too  contracted  to  admit  of  extended 
detail.  So,  without  further  expansion,  it  may 
be  said  that  when  he  drove  up  to  town  on  this 
eventful  April  day  in  Cram's  wagon  and  Lar- 
kin's  hat  and  Ferry's  Hatfield  clothes,  with 
Pierce's  precious  London  umbrella  by  his  side 


70  WA RING'S  PERIL. 

and  Merton's  watch  in  his  pocket,  he  was  as 
stylish  and  presentable  a  fellow  as  ever  issued 
from  a  battery  barrack,  and  Jeffers,  Cram's 
English  groom,  mutely  approved  the  general 
appearance  of  his  prime  favorite  among  the 
officers  at  the  post,  at  most  of  whom  he  opened 
his  eyes  in  cockney  amaze,  and  critically  noted 
the  skill  with  which  Mr.  Waring  tooled  the 
spirited  bays  along  the  levee  road. 

Nearly  a  mile  above  the  barracks,  midway 
between  the  long  embankment  to  their  left  and 
the  tall  white  picket  fence  surmounted  by  the 
olive-green  foliage  of  magnolias  and  orange- 
trees  on  the  other  hand,  they  had  come  upon 
a  series  of  deep  mud-holes  in  the  way,  where 
the  seepage-water  from  the  rapidly-rising  flood 
was  turning  the  road-way  into  a  pond.  Stuck 
helplessly  in  the  mud,  an  old-fashioned  cabri 
olet  was  halted.  Its  driver  was  out  and  up 
to  his  knees  thrashing  vainly  at  his  straining, 
staggering  horse.  The  tortuous  road- way  was 
blocked,  but  Waring  had  been  up  and  down 
the  river-bank  too  many  times  both  day  and 
night  to  be  daunted  by  a  matter  so  trivial.  He 
simply  cautioned  JefFers  to  lean  well  over  the 
inner  wheel,  guided  his  team  obliquely  up  the 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  71 

slope  of  the  levee,  and  drove  quietly  along  its 
level  top  until  abreast  the  scene  of  the  wreck. 
One  glance  into  the  interior  of  the  cab  caused 
him  suddenly  to  stop,  to  pass  the  reins  back  to 
Jeffers,  to  spring  down  the  slope  until  he  stood 
at  the  edge  of  the  sea  of  mud.  Here  he  raised 
his  hat  and  cried, — 

"  Madame  Lascelles !  madame !  this  is  indeed 
lucky — for  me.  Let  me  get  you  out." 

At  his  call  a  slender,  graceful  woman  who 
was  gazing  in  anxiety  and  dismay  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  cab  and  pleading  with  the 
driver  not  to  beat  his  horse,  turned  suddenly, 
and  a  pair  of  lovely  dark  eyes  lighted  up  at 
sight  of  his  face.  Her  pallor,  too,  gave  instant 
place  to  a  warm  flush.  A  pretty  child  at  her 
side  clapped  her  little  hands  and  screamed  with 
delight, — 

"Maman!  maman!  C'est  M'sieti  Vayreeng; 
c'est  Sa-am." 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  "Wareeng !  I'm  so  glad  you've 
come!  Do  speak  to  that  man!  It  is  horrible 
the  way  he  beat  that  poor  horse. — Mais  non, 
Nin  Kin!"  she  cried,  reproving  the  child,  now 
stretching  forth  her  little  arms  to  her  friend  and 
striving  to  rise  and  leap  to  him. 


72  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  how  in  hell  I'm  to  get  this 
cab  out  of  such  a  hole  as  this  if  I  don't  beat 
him,"  exclaimed  the  driver,  roughly.  Then 
once  more,  "Dash  blank  dash  your  infernal 
hide !  I'll  learn  you  to  balk  with  me  again !" 
Then  down  came  more  furious  lashes  on  the 
quivering  hide,  and  the  poor  tortured  brute 
began  to  back,  thereby  placing  the  frail  four- 
wheeler  in  imminent  danger  of  being  upset. 

"  Steady  there !  Hold  your  hand,  sir !  Don't 
strike  that  horse  again.  Just  stand  at  his  head 
a  moment  and  keep  quiet  till  I  get  these  ladies 
out,"  called  Waring,  in  tone  quiet  yet  com 
manding. 

"  I'll  get  'em  out  myself  in  my  own  way,  if 
they'll  only  stop  their  infernal  yellin',"  was  the 
coarse  reply. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  Wareeng,"  exclaimed  the  lady 
in  undertone,  "  the  man  has  been  drinking,  I  am 
sure.  He  has  been  so  rude  in  his  language." 

Waring  waited  for  no  more  words.  Looking 
quickly  about  him,  he  saw  a  plank  lying  on  the 
levee  slope.  This  he  seized,  thrust  one  end 
across  the  muddy  hole  until  it  rested  in  the 
cab,  stepped  lightly  across,  took  the  child  in  his 
arms,  bore  her  to  the  embankment  and  set  her 


WARING'S  PERIL.  73 

down,  then  sprang  back  for  her  young  mother, 
who,  trembling  slightly,  rose  and  took  his  out 
stretched  hand  just  as  another  lash  fell  on  the 
horse's  back  and  another  lurch  followed.  Wa 
ring  caught  at  the  cab-rail  with  one  hand,  threw 
the  other  arm  about  her  slender  waist,  and, 
fairly  lifting  little  Madame  over  the  wheel, 
sprang  with  her  to  the  shore,  and  in  an  instant 
more  had  carried  her,  speechless  and  somewhat 
agitated,  to  the  top  of  the  levee. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  let  me  drive  you  and  Niii 
Xin  wherever  you  were  going.  Is  it  to  market 
or  church  ?" 

"Mais  non — to  bonne  maman's,  of  whom  it  is 
the/efc,"  cried  the  eager  little  one,  despite  her 
mother's  stern  orders  of  silence.  "  Look !"  she 
exclaimed,  showing  her  dainty  little  legs  and 
feet  in  creamy  silken  hose  and  kid. 

It  was  "bonne  maman,"  explained  Madame, 
who  had  ordered  the  cab  from  town  for  them, 
never  dreaming  of  the  condition  of  the  river 
road  or  suspecting  that  of  the  driver. 

"  So  much  the  happier  for  me,"  laughed  Wa 
ring. — "  Take  the  front  seat,  Jeffers. — Now,  Nin 
Nm,  ma  fleurette,  up  with  you !"  And  the  de 
lighted  child  was  lifted  to  her  perch  in  the 
D  7 


74  WARING' S  PERIL. 

stylish  trap  she  had  so  often  admired.  "  Now, 
madame,"  he  continued,  extending  his  hand. 

But  Madame  hung  back,  hesitant  and  blushing. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  Wareeng,  I  cannot,  I  must 
not.  Is  it  not  that  some  one  shall  extricate  the 
cab?" 

"ETo  one  from  this  party,  at  least,"  laughed 
Waring,  mischievously  making  the  most  of  her 
idiomatic  query.  "  Your  driver  is  more  cochon 
than  cocker,  and  if  he  drowns  in  that  mud  'twill 
only  serve  him  right.  Like  your  famous  com 
patriot,  he'll  have  a  chance  to  say, '  I  will  drown, 
and  no  one  shall  help  me,'  for  all  I  care.  The 
brute!  Allons!  I  will  drive  you  to  bonne 
maman's  of  whom  it  is  the  fete.  Bless  that  baby 
daughter !  And  Madame  d'Hervilly  shall  bless 
Kin  Nin's  tout  dtvoue  Sam." 

And  Madame  Lascelles  found  further  remon 
strance  useless.  She  was  lifted  into  the  seat,  by 
which  time  the  driver,  drunken  and  truculent, 
had  waded  after  them. 

"  Who's  to  pay  for  this  ?"  was  his  surly  ques 
tion. 

"You,  I  fancy,  as  soon  as  your  employer 
learns  of  your  driving  into  that  hole,"  was 
Waring's  cool  reply. 


WABING'S  PERIL  75 

"  Well,  by  God,  I  want  five  dollars  for  my 
fare  and  trouble,  and  I  want  it  right  off." 
And,  whip  in  hand,  the  burly,  mud-covered 
fellow  came  lurching  up  the  bank.  Across  the 
boggy  street  beyond  the  white  picket  fence  the 
green  blinds  of  a  chamber  window  in  an  old- 
fashioned  Southern  house  were  thrown  open, 
and  two  feminine  faces  peered  forth,  interested 
spectators  of  the  scene. 

"  Here,  my  man !"  said  "Waring,  in  low  tone, 
"  you  have  earned  no  five  dollars,  and  you  know 
it.  Get  your  cab  out,  come  to  Madame  d'Her- 
villy's,  where  you  were  called,  and  whatever  is 
your  due  will  be  paid  you ;  but  no  more  of  this 
swearing  or  threatening, — not  another  word  of 
it." 

"I  want  my  money,  I  say,  and  I  mean  to 
have  it.  I'm  not  talking  to  you;  I'm  talking 
to  the  lady  that  hired  me." 

"But  I  have  not  the  money.  It  is  for  my 
mother — Madame  d'Hervilly — to  pay.  You  will 
come  there." 

"  I  want  it  now,  I  say.  I've  got  to  hire  teams 
to  get  my  cab  out.  I  got  stalled  here  carrying 
you  and  your  child,  and  I  mean  to  have  my  pay 
right  now,  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why.  Your 


76  WAKING'S  PERIL 

swell  friend's  got  the  money.  It's  none  of  my 
business  how  you  pay  him." 

But  that  ended  the  colloquy.  Waring's  fist 
landed  with  resounding  whack  under  the  cab 
man's  jaw,  and  sent  him  rolling  down  into  the 
mud  below.  He  was  up,  floundering  and  furi 
ous,  in  less  than  a  minute,  cursing  horribly  and 
groping  in  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat. 

"It's  a  pistol,  lieutenant.  Look  out!"  cried 
Jefiers. 

There  was  a  flash,  a  sharp  report,  a  stifled  cry 
from  the  cab,  a  scream  of  terror  from  the  child. 
But  Waring  had  leaped  lightly  aside,  and  before 
the  half-drunken  brute  could  cock  his  weapon  for 
a  second  shot  he  was  felled  like  a  log,  and  the 
pistol  wrested  from  his  hand  and  hurled  across  the 
levee.  Another  blow  crashed  full  in  his  face  as  he 
strove  to  find  his  feet,  and  this  time  his  muddled 
senses  warned  him  it  were  best  to  lie  still. 

Two  minutes  more,  when  he  lifted  his  battered 
head  and  strove  to  stanch  the  blood  streaming 
from  his  nostrils,  he  saw  the  team  driving  briskly 
away  up  the  crest  of  the  levee ;  and,  overcome 
by  maudlin  contemplation  of  his  foeman's  tri 
umph  and  his  own  wretched  plight,  the  cabman 
sat  him  down  and  wept  aloud. 


WARING' S  PERIL.  77 

And  to  his  succor  presently  there  came  minis 
tering  angels  from  across  the  muddy  way,  one 
with  a  brogue,  the  other  in  a  bandanna,  and 
between  the  two  he  was  escorted  across  a  dry 
path  to  the  magnolia-fringed  enclosure,  com 
forted  with  soothing  applications  without  and 
within,  and  encouraged  to  tell  his  tale  of  woe. 
That  he  should  wind  it  up  with  vehement  ex 
pression  of  his  ability  to  thrash  a  thousand 
swells  like  the  one  who  had  abused  him,  and  a 
piratical  prophecy  that  he'd  drink  his  heart's 
blood  within  the  week,  was  due  not  so  much  to 
confidence  in  his  own  powers,  perhaps,  as  to  the 
strength  of  the  whiskey  with  which  he  had  been 
liberally  supplied.  Then  the  lady  of  the  house 
addressed  her  Ethiop  maid-of-all-work : 

"Go  you  over  to  Anatole's  now,  'Louette. 
Tell  him  if  any  of  the  byes  are  there  I  wahnt 
'um.  If  Dawson  is  there,  from  the  adjutant's 
office,  I  wahnt  him  quick.  Tell  him  it's  Mrs. 
Doyle,  and  never  mind  if  he's  been  dhrinkin' ; 
he  shall  have  another  dhrop  here." 

And  at  her  beck  there  presently  appeared 

three  or  four  besotted-looking  specimens  in  the 

coarse  undress  uniform  of  the  day,  poor  devils, 

absent  without  leave  from  their  post  below  and 

7* 


78  WARING* S  PERIL. 

hoping  only  to  be  able  to  beg  or  steal  whiskey 
enough  to  stupefy  them  before  the  patrol  should 
come  and  drag  them  away  to  the  guard-house. 
Promise  of  liberal  reward  in  shape  of  liquor 
was  sufficient  to  induce  three  of  their  number 
to  go  out  with  the  fuming  cabman  and  help 
rescue  his  wretched  brute  and  trap.  The  mo 
ment  they  were  outside  the  gate  she  turned  on 
the  fourth,  a  pallid,  sickly  man,  whose  features 
were  delicate,  whose  hands  were  white  and 
slender,  and  whose  whole  appearance,  despite 
glassy  eyes  and  tremulous  mouth  and  limbs,  told 
the  pathetic  story  of  better  days. 

"  You're  off  ag'in,  are  you  ?  Sure  I  heerd  so, 
and  you're  mad  for  a  dhrink  now.  Can  ye 
write,  Dawson,  or  must  I  brace  you  up  furrst  ?" 

An  imploring  look,  an  unsteady  gesture,  alone 
answered. 

"  Here,  thin,  wait !  It's  absinthe  ye  need,  my 
buck.  Go  you  into  that  room  now  and  wash 
yourself,  and  I'll  bring  it,  and  whin  the  others 
come  back  for  their  whiskey  I'll  tell  'urn  you've 
gone.  You're  to  do  what  I  say,  now,  and  Doyle 
will  see  you  t'rough ;  if  not,  it's  back  to  that 
hell  in  the  guard-house  you'll  go,  my  word  on 
it." 


WARING'S  PERIL.  79 

"  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  Mrs.  Doyle "  began 

the  poor  wretch,  imploringly,  but  the  woman 
shut  him  off. 

"  In  there  wid  you !  the  others  are  coming." 
And,  unbarring  the  front  door,  she  presently 
admitted  the  trio  returning  to  claim  the  fruits 
of  their  honest  labor. 

"Is  he  gone?  Did  he  tell  you  what  hap 
pened  ?" 

"  He's  gone,  yes,"  answered  one :  "  he's  gone 
to  get  square  with  the  lieutenant  and  his  cock 
ney  dog-robber.  He  says  they  both  jumped  on 
him  and  kicked  his  face  in  when  he  was  down 
and  unarmed  and  helpless.  Was  he  lyin'  ?" 

"  Oh,  they  bate  him  cruel.  But  did  he  tell 
you  of  the  lady — who  it  was  they  took  from 
him?" 

"  Why,  sure,  the  wife  of  that  old  Frenchman, 
Lascelles,  that  lives  below, — her  the  lieutenant's 
been  sparkin'  this  three  months." 

"  The  very  wan,  mind  ye !"  replied  the  lady 
of  the  house,  with  significant  emphasis  and 
glance  from  her  bleary  eyes ;  "  the  very  wan," 
she  finished,  with  slow  nodding  accompaniment 
of  the  frowzy  head.  "  And  that's  the  kind  of 
gintlemen  that  undertakes  to  hold  up  their 


80  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

heads  over  soldiers  like  Doyle.  Here,  byes, 
dhrink  now,  but  be  off  ag'inst  his  coming.  He'll 
be  here  any  minute.  Take  this  to  comfort  ye, 
but  kape  still  about  this  till  ye  see  me  ag'in — or 
Doyle.  Now  run."  And  with  scant  ceremony 
the  dreary  party  was  hustled  out  through  a 
paved  court-yard  to  a  gate-way  opening  on  a 
side  street.  Houses  were  few  and  scattering  so 
far  below  the  heart  of  the  city.  The  narrow 
strip  of  land  between  the  great  river  and  the 
swamp  was  cut  up  into  walled  enclosures,  as  a 
rule, — abandoned  warehouses  and  cotton-presses, 
moss-grown  one-storied  frame  structures,  stand 
ing  in  the  midst  of  desolate  fields  and  decrepit 
fences.  Only  among  the  peaceful  shades  of 
the  Ursuline  convent  and  the  warlike  flanking 
towers  at  the  barracks  was  there  aught  that 
spoke  of  anything  but  demoralization  and  decay. 
Back  from  the  levee  a  block  or  two  the  double 
lines  of  strap-iron  stretched  over  a  wooden 
causeway  between  parallel  wet  ditches  gave 
evidence  of  some  kind  of  a  railway,  on  which, 
at  rare  intervals,  jogged  a  sleepy  mule  with  a 
sleepier  driver  and  a  musty  old  rattle-trap  of  a 
car, — a  car  butting  up  against  the  animal's  lazy 
hocks  and  rousing  him  occasionally  to  ringing 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  81 

and  retaliatory  kicks.  Around  the  barracks  the 
buildings  were  closer,  mainly  in  the  way  of  sa 
loons  ;  then  came  a  mile-long  northward  stretch 
of  track,  with  wet  fields  on  either  side,  fringed 
along  the  river  by  solid  structures  and  walled 
enclosures  that  told  of  days  more  prosperous 
than  those  which  so  closely  followed  the  war. 
It  was  to  one  of  these  graceless  drinking-shops 
and  into  the  hands  of  a  rascally  "  dago"  known 
as  Anatole  that  Mrs.  Doyle  commended  her  trio 
of  allies,  and  being  rid  of  them  she  turned  back 
to  her  prisoner,  their  erstwhile  companion. 
Absinthe  wrought  its  work  on  his  meek  and 
pliant  spirit,  and  the  shaking  hand  was  nerved 
to  do  the  woman's  work.  At  her  dictation, 
with  such  corrections  as  his  better  education 
suggested,  two  letters  were  draughted,  and  with 
these  in  her  hand  she  went  aloft.  In  fifteen 
minutes  she  returned,  placed  one  of  these  letters 
in  an  envelope  already  addressed  to  Monsieur 
Armand  Lascelles,  No.  —  Rue  Eoyale,  the  other 
she  handed  to  Dawson.  It  was  addressed  in 
neat  and  delicate  feminine  hand  to  Colonel 
Braxton,  Jackson  Barracks. 

"  Now,  Dawson,  ye  can't  see  her  this  day,  and 
she  don't  want  ye  till  you  can  come  over  here 


82  WARING'S  PERIL. 

sober.  Off  wid  ye  now  to  barracks.  They're 
all  out  at  inspection  yet,  and  will  be  for  an  hour. 
Lay  this  wid  the  colonel's  mail  on  his  desk,  and 
thin  go  you  to  your  own.  Come  to  me  this 
afthernoon  for  more  dhrink  if  ye  can  tell  me 
what  he  said  and  did  when  he  read  it.  Ko  !  no 
more  liquor  now.  That'll  brace  ye  till  dinner 
time,  and  more  would  make  ye  dhrunk." 

Miserably  he  plodded  away  down  the  levee, 
while  she,  his  ruler,  throwing  on  a  huge,  dirty 
white  sun-bonnet,  followed  presently  in  his 
tracks,  and  "  shadowed"  him  until  she  saw  him 
safely  reach  the  portals  of  the  barracks  after 
one  or  two  fruitless  scouts  into  wayside  bars  in 
hope  of  finding  some  one  to  treat  or  trust  him 
to  a  drink.  Then,  retracing  her  steps  a  few 
blocks,  she  rang  sharply  at  the  lattice  gate  open 
ing  into  a  cool  and  shaded  enclosure,  beyond 
which  could  be  seen  the  white-pillared  veranda 
of  a  long,  low,  Southern  homestead.  A  grin 
ning  negro  boy  answered  the  summons. 

"  It's  you,  is  it,  Alphonse  ?    Is  your  mistress 
at  home  ?" 

"  "No ;  gone  town, — chez  Madame  d'Hervilly" 

"  Madame  Devillease,  is  it  ?    Very  well ;  you 
skip  to  town  wid  that  note  and  get  it  in  your 


TARING'S  PERIL.  83 

master's  hands  before  the  cathedral  clock  strikes 
twelve,  or  ye'll  suffer.  There's  a  car  in  free 
minutes." 

And  then,  well  content  with  her  morning's 
work,  the  consort  of  the  senior  first  lieutenant 
of  Light  Battery  "X"  (a  dame  whose  creden 
tials  were  too  clouded  to  admit  of  her  reception 
or  recognition  within  the  limits  of  a  regnlar 
garrison,  where,  indeed,  to  do  him  justice,  Mr. 
Doyle  never  wished  to  see  her,  or,  for  that 
matter,  anywhere  else)  betook  herself  to  the 
magnolia-shaded  cottage  where  she  dwelt  beyond 
the  pale  of  military  interference,  and  some  hours 
later  sent  'Louette  to  say  to  Doyle  she  wanted 
him,  and  Doyle  obeyed.  In  his  relief  at  finding 
the  colonel  had  probably  forgotten  the  pecca 
dillo  for  which  he  expected  punishment,  in  bliss 
ful  possession  of  Mr.  Waring's  sitting-room  and 
supplies  now  that  Waring  was  absent,  the  big 
Irishman  was  preparing  to  spend  the  time  in 
drinking  his  junior's  health  and  whiskey  and 
discoursing  upon  the  enormity  of  his  miscon 
duct  with  all  comers,  when  Ananias  entered 
and  informed  him  there  was  a  lady  below  who 
wished  to  see  him, — "  lady"  being  the  euphem 
ism  of  the  lately  enfranchised  for  the  females  of 


84  WARING1  S  PERIL. 

their  race.  It  was  'Louette  with  the  mandate 
from  her  mistress,  a  mandate  he  dared  not 
disregard. 

"Say  I'll  be  along  in  a  minute,"  was  his 
reply,  but  he  sighed  and  swore  heavily,  as 
he  slowly  reascended  the  stair.  "  Give  me  an- 
other  dhrink,  smut,"  he  ordered  Ananias,  dis 
regarding  Ferry's  suggestion,  "  Better  drink  no 
more  till  after  dark."  Then,  swallowing  his 
potion,  he  went  lurching  down  the  steps  with 
out  another  word.  Ferry  and  Pierce  stepped 
to  the  gallery  and  gazed  silently  after  him  as  he 
veered  around  to  the  gate  leading  to  the  old 
war-hospital  enclosure  where  the  battery  was 
quartered.  Already  his  walk  was  perceptibly 
unsteady. 

"Keeps  his  head  pretty  well,  even  after  his 
legs  are  gone,"  said  Ferry.  "  Knows  too  much 
to  go  by  the  sally-port.  He's  sneaking  out 
through  the  back  gate." 

"  Why,  what  does  he  go  out  there  for,  when 
he  has  the  run  of  Waring's  sideboard  ?" 

"  Oh,  didn't  you  hear  ?  Mrs.  Doyle  sent  for 
him." 

"  That's  it,  is  it  ?  Sometimes  I  wonder  which 
one  of  those  two  will  kill  the  other." 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  85 

"  Oh,  he  wouldn't  dare.  That  fellow  is  an 
abject  coward  in  the  dark.  He  believes  in 
ghosts,  spooks,  banshees,  and  wraiths, — every 
thing  uncanny, — and  she'd  haunt  him  if  he  laid 
his  hands  on  her.  There's  only  one  thing  that 
he'd  be  more  afraid  of  than  Bridget  Doyle 
living,  and  that  would  be  Bridget  Doyle  dead.'* 

"  Why  can't  he  get  rid  of  her  ?  What  hold 
has  she  on  him  ?  This  thing's  an  infernal  scan 
dal  as  it  stands.  She's  only  been  here  a  month 
or  so,  and  everybody  in  garrison  knows  all 
about  her,  and  these  doughboys  don't  make  any 
bones  about  chaffing  us  on  our  lady  friends." 

"Well,  everybody  supposed  he  had  got  rid 
of  her  years  ago.  He  shook  her  when  he  was 
made  first  sergeant,  just  before  the  war.  Why, 
I've  heard  some  of  the  old  stagers  say  there 
wasn't  a  finer-looking  soldier  in  all  the  regiment 
than  Jim  Doyle  when  he  married  that  specimen 
at  Brownsville.  Doyle,  too,  supposed  she  was 
dead  until  after  he  got  his  commission,  then  she 
reappeared  and  laid  claim  to  him.  It  would 
have  been  an  easy  enough  matter  five  years  ago 
to  prove  she  had  forfeited  all  rights,  but  now  he 
can't.  Then  she's  got  some  confounded  hold  on 
him,  I  don't  know  what,  but  it's  killing  the  poor 

8 


86  WA RING'S  PERIL. 

beggar.  Good  thing  for  the  regiment,  though : 
so  let  it  go." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  a  rap  how  soon  we're  rid 
of  him  or  her, — the  sooner  the  better;  only  I 
hate  to  hear  these  fellows  laughing  and  sneering 
about  Mrs.  Doyle."  And  here  the  young  fellow 
hesitated.  "Ferry,  you  know  I'm  as  fond  of 
Sam  Waring  as  any  of  you.  I  liked  him  better 
than  any  man  in  his  class  when  we  wore  the 
gray.  When  they  were  yearlings  we  were 
plebes,  and  devilled  and  tormented  by  them 
most  unmercifully  day  and  night.  I  took  to 
him  then  for  his  kindly,  jolly  ways.  ]STo  one 
ever  knew  him  to  say  or  do  a  cross  or  brutal 
thing.  I  liked  him  more  every  year,  and 
missed  him  when  he  was  graduated.  I  rejoiced 
when  he  got  his  transfer  to  us.  It's  because 
I  like  him  so  much  that  I  hate  to  hear  these 
fellows  making  their  little  flings  now." 

"  What  flings  ?"  said  Ferry. 

"  Well,  you  know  as  much  as  I  do.  You've 
heard  as  much,  too,  I  haven't  a  doubt." 

"  Nobody's  said  anything  about  Sam  Waring 
in  my  hearing  that  reflected  on  him  in  any  way 
worth  speaking  of,"  said  Ferry,  yet  not  very 
stoutly. 


WA  RING'S  PERIL.  87 

"  Not  on  him  so  much,  perhaps,  as  the  world 
looks  at  this  sort  of  thing,  but  on  her.  She's 
young,  pretty,  married  to  a  man  years  her 
senior,  a  snuffy,  frowzy  old  Frenchman.  She's 
alone  with  her  child  and  one  or  two  servants 
from  early  morning  till  late  evening,  and  with 
that  weazened  little  monkey  of  a  man  the  rest 
of  the  time.  The  only  society  she  sees  is  the 
one  or  two  gossipy  old  women  of  both  sexes 
who  live  along  the  levee  here.  The  only  enjoy 
ment  she  has  is  when  she  can  get  to  her 
mother's  up  in  town,  or  run  up  to  the  opera 
when  she  can  get  Lascelles  to  take  her.  That 
old  mummy  cares  nothing  for  music  and  still 
less  for  the  dance ;  she  loves  both,  and  so  does 
"Waring.  Monsieur  le  Mari  goes  out  into  the 
foyer  between  the  acts  to  smoke  his  cigarette 
and  gossip  with  other  relics  like  himself.  "Wa 
ring  has  never  missed  a  night  she  happened  to 
be  there  for  the  last  six  weeks.  I  admit  he  is 
there  many  a  time  when  she  is  not,  but  after 
he's  had  a  few  words  with  the  ladies  in  the 
general's  box,  what  becomes  of  him?  I  don't 
know,  because  I'm  seldom  there,  but  Dryden 
and  Taggart  and  Jack  Merton  of  the  infantry 
can  tell  you.  He  is  sitting  by  her  in  the  D'Her- 


88  WARING'S  PERIL. 

villy  loge  grillee  and  going  over  the  last  act  with 
her  and  rhapsodizing  about  Verdi,  Bellini,  Mo 
zart,  or  Gounod, — Gounod  especially  and  the 
garden-scene  from  '  Faust.' " 

"Isn't  her  mother  with  her,  and,  being  in 
mourning,  doesn't  she  have  to  stay  in  her  lat 
ticed  loge  instead  of  promenading  in  the  foyer 
and  drinking  that  two-headaches-for-a-picayune 
punch  ?"  queried  Ferry,  eager  for  a  diversion. 

"Suppose  she  is,"  answered  Pierce,  stoutly. 
"I'm  a  crank, — strait-laced,  if  you  like.  It's 
the  fault  of  my  bringing  up.  But  I  know,  and 
you  know,  that  that  little  woman,  in  her  loneli 
ness  and  in  her  natural  longing  for  some  con 
genial  spirit  to  commune  with,  is  simply  falling 
madly  in  love  with  Sam  "Waring,  and  there  will 
be  tragedy  here  before  we  can  stop  it." 

"  See  here,  Pierce,"  asked  Ferry,  "  do  you 
suppose  Mrs.  Cram  would  be  so  loyal  a  friend 
to  Waring  if  she  thought  there  was  any 
thing  wrong  in  his  attentions  to  Madame  Las- 
celles  ?  Do  you  suppose  Cram  himself  wouldn't 
speak?" 

"  He  has  spoken." 

"  He  has  ?     To  whom  ?" 

"  To  me,  three  days  ago ;  said  I  had  known 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  89 

"Waring  longest  and  best,  perhaps  was  his  most 
intimate  friend,  and  he  thought  I  ought  to  warn 
him  of  what  people  were  saying." 

"  What  have  you  done  ?" 

"Nothing  yet:  simply  because  I  know  Sam 
Waring  so  well  that  I  know  just  what  he'd  do, 
— go  and  pull  the  nose  of  the  man  who  gossiped 
about  him  and  her.  Then  we'd  have  a  fight  on 
our  hands." 

"  Well,  we  can  fight,  I  suppose,  can't  we  ?" 

"  Not  without  involving  a  woman's  name." 

"  Oh,  good  Lord,  Pierce,  was  there  ever  a  row 
without  a  woman  aufond?" 

"  That's  a  worm-eaten  witticism,  Ferry,  and 
you're  too  decent  a  fellow,  as  a  rule,  to  be 
cynical.  I've  got  to  speak  to  Waring,  and  I 
don't  know  how  to  do  it.  I  want  your  ad 
vice." 

"  Well,  my  advice  is  Punch's :  Don't.  Hello  ! 
here's  Dryden.  Thought  you  were  on  court 
duty  up  at  head-quarters  to-day,  old  man. 
Come  in  and  have  a  wet?"  Mr.  Ferry  had 
seen  some  happy  days  at  Fortress  Monroe  when 
the  ships  of  Her  Majesty's  navy  lay  off  the 
Hygeia  and  the  gallants  of  England  lay  to  at 
the  bar,  and  Ferry  rejoiced  in  the  vernacular  of 
8* 


90  WARINQ'S  PERIL. 

the  United  Service,  so  far  as  he  could  learn  it, 
as  practised  abroad. 

"  Thanks.  Just  had  one  over  at  Merton's. 
Hear  you've  been  having  review  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing  down  here,"  said  the  infantryman, 
as  he  lolled  back  in  an  easy-chair  and  planted 
his  boot-heels  on  the  gallery  rail.  "  Glad  I  got 
out  of  it.  Court  met  and  adjourned  at  ten,  so 
I  came  home.  How'd  Waring  get  off?" 

"  Huh ! — Cram's  wagon,"  laughed  Ferry, 
rather  uncomfortably,  however. 

"  Oh,  Lord,  yes,  I  know  that.  Didn't  I  see 
him  driving  Madame  Lascelles  up  Rampart 
Street  as  I  came  down  in  the  mule-car  ?" 

And  then  Pierce  and  Ferry  looked  at  each 
other,  startled. 

That  evening,  therefore,  it  was  a  comfort  to 
both  when  Sam  came  tooling  the  stylish  turnout 
through  the  sally-port  and  his  battery  chums 
caught  sight  of  the  Allertons.  Pierce  was  just 
returning  from  stables,  and  Ferry  was  smoking 
a  pipe  of  perique  on  the  broad  gallery,  and  both 
hastened  to  don  their  best  jackets  and  doff 
their  best  caps  to  these  interesting  and  inter 
ested  callers.  Cram  himself  had  gone  off  for 
a  ride  and  a  think.  He  always  declared  his 


WARING1  S    PERIL.  91 

ideas  were  clearer  after  a  gallop.  The  band 
played  charmingly.  The  ladies  came  out  and 
made  a  picturesque  croquet-party  on  the  green 
carpet  of  the  parade.  The  officers  clustered 
about  and  offered  laughing  wagers  on  the  game. 
A  dozen  romping  children  were  playing  joy 
ously  around  the  tall  flag-staff.  The  air  was 
rich  with  the  fragrance  of  the  magnolia  and 
Cape  jasmine,  and  glad  with  music  and  soft  and 
merry  voices.  Then  the  stirring  bugles  rang 
out  their  lively  summons  to  the  batterymen 
beyond  the  wall.  The  drums  of  the  infantry 
rolled  and  rattled  their  echoing  clamor.  The 
guard  sprang  into  ranks,  and  their  muskets, 
glistening  in  the  slanting  beams  of  the  setting 
sun,  clashed  in  simultaneous  "  present"  to  the 
red-sashed  officer  of  the  day,  and  that  official 
raised  his  plumed  hat  to  the  lieutenant  with  the 
lovely  girl  by  his  side  and  the  smiling  elders  on 
the  back  seat  as  the  team  once  more  made  the 
circuit  of  the  post  on  the  back  trip  to  town, 
and  Miss  Flora  Allerton  clasped  her  hands  and 
looked  enthusiastically  up  into  her  escort's  face. 
"Oh,"  she  cried,  "isn't  it  all  just  too  lovely 
for  anything!  Why,  I  think  your  life  here 
must  be  like  a  dream." 


92  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

But  Miss  Allerton,  as  Mrs.  Cram  had  said, 
sometimes  gushed,  and  life  at  Jackson  Barracks 
was  no  such  dream  as  it  appeared. 

The  sun  went  down  red  and  angry  far  across 
the  tawny  flood  of  the  rushing  river.  The 
night  lights  were  set  at  the  distant  bend  below. 
The  stars  came  peeping  through  a  shifting  filmy 
veil.  The  big  trees  on  the  levee  and  about  the 
flanking  towers  began  to  whisper  and  complain 
and  creak,  and  the  rising  wind  sent  long  wisps 
of  straggly  cloud  racing  across  the  sky.  The 
moon  rose  pallid  and  wan,  hung  for  a  while 
over  the  dense  black  mass  of  moss-grown  cy 
press  in  the  eastward  swamp,  then  hid  her  face 
behind  a  heavy  bank  of  clouds,  as  though  reluc 
tant  to  look  upon  the  wrath  to  come,  for  a  storm 
was  rising  fast  and  furious  to  break  upon  and 
deluge  old  Jackson  Barracks. 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  93 


CHAPTER   IV. 

WHEN  Jeffers  came  driving  into  barracks  on 
his  return  from  town,  his  first  care,  as  became 
the  trained  groom,  was  for  his  horses,  and  he 
was  rubbing  them  down  and  bedding  their  stalls 
for  the  night  when  the  sergeant  of  the  battery 
guard,  lantern  in  hand,  appeared  at  the  door. 
It  was  not  yet  tattoo,  but  by  this  time  the  dark 
ness  was  intense,  the  heavens  were  hid,  and  the 
wind  was  moaning  about  the  stables  and  gun- 
shed  and  whistling  away  over  the  dismal  ex 
panse  of  flat,  wet,  ditch-tangled  fields  towards 
the  swamp.  But  the  cockney's  spirits  were 
blithe  as  the  clouds  were  black.  As  was  usual 
when  he  or  any  other  servitor  was  in  attendance 
on  Waring,  the  reward  had  been  munificent. 
He  had  lunched  at  Cassidy's  at  the  lieutenant's 
expense  while  that  officer  and  his  friends  were 
similarly  occupied  at  the  more  exclusive  Mo- 
reau's.  He  had  stabled  the  team  at  the  quarter 
master's  while  he  had  personally  attended  the 


94  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

matinte  at  the  St.  Charles,  which  was  more  to 
his  taste  than  Booth  and  high  tragedy.  He  had 
sauntered  about  the  Tattersalls  and  smoked 
"Waring's  cigars  and  patronized  the  jockeys 
gathered  there  for  the  spring  meeting  on  the 
Metairie,  but  promptly  on  time  was  awaiting  the 
return  of  the  party  from  their  drive  and  lolling 
about  the  ladies'  entrance  to  the  St.  Charles 
Hotel,  when  he  became  aware,  as  the  lamps 
were  being  lighted  and  the  dusk  of  the  evening 
gave  place  to  lively  illumination,  that  two  men 
had  passed  and  repassed  the  open  portals  sev 
eral  times,  and  that  they  were  eying  him  curi 
ously,  and  chattering  to  each  other  in  French. 
One  of  them  he  presently  recognized  as  the 
little  "  frog-eater"  who  occupied  the  old  house 
on  the  levee,  Lascelles,  the  husband  of  the 
pretty  Frenchwoman  he  and  the  lieutenant  had 
dragged  out  of  the  mud  that  very  morning  and 
had  driven  up  to  the  old  D'Hervilly  place  on 
Rampart  Street.  Even  as  he  was  wondering 
how  cabby  got  out  of  his  scrape  and  chuckling 
with  satisfaction  over  the  scientific  manner  in 
which  Mr.  "Waring  had  floored  that  worthy, 
Mr.  Jeffers  was  surprised  to  find  himself  most 
civilly  accosted  by  old  Lascelles,  who  had  been 


WARIN&S   PERIL.  95 

informed,  he  said,  by  Madame  his  wife,  of  the 
heroic  services  rendered  her  that  morning  by 
Monsieur  Jeffers  and  Monsieur  le  Capitaine. 
He  begged  of  the  former  the  acceptance  of  the 
small  douceur  which  he  slipped  into  the  English 
man's  accustomed  palm,  and  inquired  when  he 
might  hope  to  see  the  brave  captain  and  dis 
embarrass  himself  of  his  burden  of  gratitude. 

"  Here  they  come  now,"  said  Jeffers,  promptly 
pocketing  the  money  and  springing  forward  to 
knuckle  his  hat-brim  and  stand  at  the  horses' 
heads.  All  grace  and  animation,  Mr.  "Waring 
had  assisted  his  friends  to  alight,  had  promised 
to  join  them  in  the  ladies'  parlor  in  ten  minutes, 
had  sprung  to  the  seat  again,  signalling  Jeffers 
to  tumble  up  behind,  and  then  had  driven 
rapidly  away  through  Carondelet  Street  to  the 
broad  avenue  beyond.  Here  he  tossed  the  reins 
to  Jeffers,  disappeared  a  moment,  and  came 
back  with  a  little  Indian-made  basket  filled  to 
overflowing  with  exquisite  double  violets  rich 
with  fragrance. 

"  Give  this  to  Mrs.  Cram  for  me,  and  tell  the 
captain  I'll  drop  in  to  thank  him  in  a  couple  of 

hours,   and Here,   Jeffers,"  he   said,   and 

Jeffers  had  pocketed  another   greenback,  and 


96  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

had  driven  briskly  homeward,  well  content  with 
the  result  of  his  day's  labors,  and  without  hav 
ing  mentioned  to  Mr.  "Waring  the  fact  that 
Lascelles  had  been  at  the  hotel  making  inquiries 
for  him.  A  day  so  profitable  and  so  pleasant 
Jeffers  had  not  enjoyed  since  his  arrival  at  the 
barracks,  and  he  was  humming  away  in  high 
good  humor,  all  reckless  of  the  rising  storm, 
when  the  gruff  voice  of  Sergeant  Schwartz  dis 
turbed  him : 

"  Chewers,  you  will  rebort  at  vonst  to  Cap 
tain  Cram." 

"  Who  says  I  will  ?"  said  Jeffers,  cheerfully, 
though  bent  on  mischief,  but  was  awed  into 
instant  silence  at  seeing  that  veteran  step 
quickly  back,  stand  attention,  and  raise  his  hand 
in  salute,  for  there  came  Cram  himself,  Pierce 
with  him. 

"  Did  Mr.  Waring  come  back  with  you  ?"  was 
the  first  question. 

"Ko,  sir;  Hi  left  Mr.  Warink  on  Canal 
Street.  'E  said  Vd  be  back  to  thank  the  capt'in 
in  a  little  while,  sir,  and  'e  sent  these  for  the 
capt'in's  lady." 

Cram  took  the  beautiful  basket  of  violets  with 
dubious  hand,  though  his  eyes  kindled  when 


WARING'S  PERIL.  97 

he  noted  their  profusion  and  fragrance.  Nell 
loved  violets,  and  it  was  like  Waring  to  remem 
ber  so  bountifully  her  fondness  for  them. 

"What  detained  him?  Did  he  send  no 
word?" 

"'E  said  nothink,  and  sent  nothink  but  the 
basket,  sir.  'E  said  a  couple  of  hours,  now 
I  think  of  it,  sir.  JE  was  going  back  to  the 
'otel  to  dine  with  a  lady  and  gent." 

For  a  moment  Cram  was  silent.  He  glanced 
at  Pierce,  as  much  as  to  say,  Have  you  no  ques 
tion  to  ask?  but  the  youngster  held  his  peace. 
The  senior  officer  hated  to  inquire  of  his  servant 
into  the  details  of  the  day's  doings.  He  was 
more  than  half  indignant  at  Waring  for  having 
taken  such  advantage  of  even  an  implied  per 
mission  as  to  drive  off  with  his  equipage  and 
groom  in  so  summary  a  way.  Of  course  Nell 
had  said,  Take  it  and  go,  but  Nell  could  have 
had  no  idea  of  the  use  to  which  the  wagon  was 
to  be  put.  If  Waring  left  the  garrison  with  the 
intention  of  using  the  equipage  to  take  Madame 
Lascelles  driving,  it  was  the  most  underhand 
and  abominable  thing  he  had  ever  heard  of  his 
doing.  It  was  unlike  him.  It  couldn't  be  true. 
Yet  had  not  Braxton  shown  him  the  letter 
B  g  9 


98  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

which  said  he  was  seen  on  the  levee  with  her 
by  his  side  ?  Had  not  Dryden  farther  informed 
every  man  and  woman  and  child  with  whom  he 
held  converse  during  the  day  that  he  had  seen 
"Waring  with  Cram's  team  driving  Madame  Las- 
celles  up  Rampart  Street,  and  was  not  there  a 
story  already  afloat  that  old  Lascelles  had  for 
bidden  him  ever  to  darken  his  threshold  again, 
— forbidden  Madame  to  drive,  dance,  or  even 
speak  with  him  ?  And  was  there  not  already  in 
the  post  commander's  hand  a  note  intimating 
that  Monsieur  Lascelles  would  certainly  chal 
lenge  "Waring  to  instant  and  mortal  combat  if 
"Waring  had  used  the  wagon  as  alleged  ?  Jefters 
must  know  about  it,  and  could  and  should  tell 
if  required,  but  Cram  simply  could  not  and 
would  not  ask  the  groom  to  detail  the  move 
ments  of  the  gentleman.  Had  not  Waring  sent 
word  he  would  be  home  in  two  hours  and  would 
come  to  see  his  battery  commander  at  once? 
Did  not  that  mean  he  would  explain  fully? 
Cram  gulped  down  the  query  that  rose  to  his 
lips. 

"All  right,  then,  Pierce;  we'll  take  these 
over  to  Mrs.  Cram  and  have  a  bite  ready  for 
"Waring  on  his  return,"  said  the  stout-hearted 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  99 

fellow,  and,  in  refusing  to  question  his  servant, 
missed  the  chance  of  averting  catastrophe. 

And  so  they  bore  the  beautiful  cluster  of 
violets,  with  its  mute  pledge  of  fidelity  and  full 
explanation,  to  his  rejoicing  Nell,  and  the  trio 
eat  and  chatted,  and  one  or  two  visitors  came  in 
for  a  while  and  then  scurried  home  as  the  rain 
began  to  plash  on  the  windows,  and  the  bugles 
and  drums  and  fifes  sounded  far  away  at  tattoo 
and  more  than  usually  weird  and  mournful  at 
taps,  and  finally  ten-thirty  came,  by  which  time 
it  had  been  raining  torrents,  and  the  wind  was 
lashing  the  roaring  river  into  foam,  and  the 
trees  were  bowing  low  before  their  master,  and 
the  levee  road  was  a  quagmire,  and  Cram  felt 
convinced  no  cab  could  bring  his  subaltern 
home.  Yet  in  his  nervousness  and  anxiety  he 
pulled  on  his  boots,  threw  his  gum  coat  over  his 
uniform,  tiptoed  in  to  bend  over  Nell's  sleeping 
form  and  whisper,  should  she  wake,  that  he  was 
going  only  to  the  sally-port  or  perhaps  over  to 
"Waring's  quarters,  but  she  slept  peacefully  and 
never  stirred,  so  noiselessly  he  slipped  out  on 
the  gallery  and  down  the  stairs  and  stalked 
boldly  out  into  the  raging  storm,  guided  by  the 
dim  light  burning  in  Waring's  room.  Ananias 


100  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

was  sleeping  curled  up  on  a  rug  in  front  of  the 
open  fireplace,  and  Cram  stirred  him  up  with 
his  foot.  The  negro  rolled  lazily  over,  with  a 
stretch  and  yawn. 

"  Did  Mr.  Waring  take  any  arms  with  him  ?" 
queried  the  captain. 

"  Any  whut,  suh  ?"  responded  Ananias,  rub 
bing  his  eyes  and  still  only  half  awake. 

"  Any  pistol  or  knife  ?" 

"Lord,  suh,  no.  Mr.  "Waring  don't  never 
carry  anything  o*  dat  sort." 

A  student-lamp  was  burning  low  on  the 
centre-table.  There  lay  among  the  books  and 
papers  a  couple  of  letters,  evidently  received 
that  day,  and  still  unopened.  There  lay  Wa- 
ring's  cigar-case,  a  pretty  trifle  given  him  by 
some  far-away  friend,  with  three  or  four  fra 
grant  Havanas  temptingly  visible.  There  lay 
a  late  magazine,  its  pages  still  uncut.  Cram 
looked  at  the  dainty  wall  clock,  ticking  mer 
rily  away  over  the  mantel.  Eleven-thirty-five! 
Well,  he  was  too  anxious  to  sleep  anyhow,  why 
not  wait  a  few  minutes  ?  Waring  might  come, 
probably  would  come.  If  no  cab  could  make 
its  way  down  by  the  levee  road,  there  were  the 
late  cars  from  town ;  they  had  to  make  the  effort 


WARING'S  PERIL.  101 

anyhow.  Cram  stepped  to  the  sideboard,  mixed 
a  mild  toddy,  sipped  it  reflectively,  then  lighted 
a  cigar  and  threw  himself  into  the  easy-chair. 
Ananias,  meantime,  was  up  and  astir.  Seeing 
that  Cram  was  looking  about  in  search  of  a 
paper-cutter,  the  boy  stepped  forward  and  bent 
over  the  table. 

"  De  lieutenant  always  uses  dis,  suh,"  said  he, 
lifting  first  one  paper,  then  another,  searching 
under  each.  "  Don't  seem  to  be  yer  now,  suh. 
You've  seen  it,  dough,  captain, — dat  cross- 
handled  dagger  wid  de  straight  blade." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  "Where  is  it  ?"  asked  Cram. 
"  That'll  do." 

"Tain't  yer,  suh,  now.  Can't  find  it  yer, 
nohow." 

"  Well,  then,  Mr.  Waring  probably  took  a 
knife,  after  all." 

"  No,  suh,  I  don't  t'ink  so.  I  never  knowed 
him  to  use  it  befo'  away  from  de  room." 

"  Anybody  else  been  here  ?"  said  Cram. 

"  Oh,  dey  was  all  in  yer,  suh,  dis  arternoon, 
but  Mr.  Doyle  he  was  sent  for,  suh,  and  had  to 
go." 

A  step  and  the  rattle  of  a  sword  were  heard 

on  the  gallery  without.     The  door  opened,  and 
9* 


102  WARING'S  PERIL. 

in  came  Merton  of  the  infantry,  officer  of  the 
day. 

"  Hello,  "Waring !"  he  began.  "  Oh,  it's  you, 
is  it,  captain  ?  Isn't  "Waring  back  ?  I  saw  the 
light,  and  came  up  to  chin  with  him  a  moment. 
Beastly  night,  isn't  it?" 

""Waring  isn't  back  yet.  I  look  for  him 
by  the  eleven-thirty  car,"  answered  the  cap 
tain. 

"  Why,  that's  in.  No  Waring  there,  but  half 
a  dozen  poor  devils,  half  drowned  and  half 
drunk,  more'n  half  drunk,  one  of  your  men 
among  'em.  "We  had  to  put  him  into  the  guard 
house  to  keep  him  from  murdering  Dawson,  the 
head-quarters  clerk.  There's  been  some  kind 
of  a  row." 

"  Sorry  to  hear  that.    "Who  is  the  man  ?" 

"  Kane.  He  said  Dawson  was  lying  about  hia 
officer  and  he  wouldn't  stand  it." 

"  Kane !"  exclaimed  Cram,  rising.  "  Why, 
he's  one  of  our  best.  I  never  heard  of  his  being 
riotous  before." 

"He's  riotous  enough  to-night.  He  wanted 
to  lick  all  six  of  our  fellows,  and  if  I  hadn't  got 
there  when  I  did  they  would  probably  have 
kicked  him  into  a  pulp.  All  were  drunk; 


WARINO'S  PERIL.  103 

Kane,  too,  I  should  say ;  and  as  for  Dawson,  he 
was  just  limp." 

"Would  you  mind  going  down  and  letting 
me  talk  with  Kane  a  moment  ?  I  never  knew 
him  to  be  troublesome  before,  though  he  some 
times  drank  a  little.  He  was  on  pass  this 
evening." 

"  Well,  it's  raining  cats  and  dogs,  captain,  but 
come  along.  If  you  can  stand  it  I  can." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  sergeant  of  the  guard 
threw  open  one  of  the  wooden  compartments 
in  the  guard-house,  and  there  sat  Kane,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands. 

"  I  ordered  him  locked  in  here  by  himself,  be 
cause  I  feared  our  fellows  would  hammer  him 
if  he  were  turned  in  with  them,"  explained  Mr. 
Merton,  and  at  sound  of  the  voice  the  prisoner 
looked  up  and  saw  his  commander,  dripping 
with  wet.  Unsteadily  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Captain,"  he  began,  thickly,  "  I'd  never 
have  done  it  in  the  world,  sir,  but  that  black 
guard  was  drunk,  sir,  and  slandering  my  officer, 
and  I  gave  him  fair  warning  to  quit  or  I'd  hit 
him,  but  he  kept  on." 

"  Ye-es  ?    And  what  did  he  say  ?" 

"  He  said — I  wouldn't  believe  it,  sir — that  Mr. 


104  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

Doyle  was  that  drunk  that  him  and  some  other 
fellers  had  lifted  him  out  of  the  mud  and  put 
him  to  hed  up  there  at — up  there  at  the  house, 
sir,  back  of  Anatole's  place.  I  think  the  captain 
knows." 

"  Ah,  you  should  have  steered  clear  of  such 
company,  Kane.  Did  this  happen  at  Anatole's 
saloon  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  them  fellers  was  making  so 
much  noise  that  the  dago  turned  them  all  out 
and  shut  up  the  shop  at  eleven  o'clock,  and 
that's  what  made  them  follow  me  home  in  the 
car  and  abuse  me  all  the  way.  I  couldn't  stand 
it,  sir." 

"You  would  only  have  laughed  at  them  if 
your  better  judgment  hadn't  been  ruined  by 
liquor.  Sorry  for  you,  Kane,  but  you've  been 
drinking  just  enough  to  be  a  nuisance,  and  must 
stay  where  you  are  for  the  night.  They'll  be 
sorry  for  what  they  said  in  the  morning. — Did 
you  lock  up  the  others,  Mr.  Merton  ?"  he  asked, 
as  they  turned  away. 

"  All  but  Dawson,  sir.  I  took  him  over  to 
the  hospital  and  put  a  sentry  over  him.  That 
fellow  looks  to  be  verging  on  jimjams,  and  I 
wouldn't  be  surprised  if  he'd  been  talking  as 


WARING'S  PERIL.  105 

Kane  says."  Merton  might  have  added,  "  and 
it's  probably  true,"  but  courtesy  to  his  battery 
friend  forbade.  Cram  did  add  mentally  some 
thing  to  the  same  effect,  but  loyalty  to  his  arm 
of  the  service  kept  him  silent.  At  the  flag-staff 
the  two  officers  stopped. 

"  Merton,  oblige  me  by  saying  nothing  as  to 
the  alleged  language  about  Doyle,  will  you  ?" 

"  Certainly,  captain.     Good- night." 

Then,  as  the  officer  of  the  day's  lantern  flick 
ered  away  in  one  direction,  Cram  turned  in 
the  other,  and  presently  went  climbing  up  the 
stairs  to  the  gallery  leading  to  the  quarters  of 
his  senior  first  lieutenant.  A  dim  light  was 
shining  through  the  shutters.  Cram  knocked 
at  the  door ;  no  answer.  Opening  it,  he  glanced 
in.  The  room  was  unoccupied.  A  cheap  ma 
rine  clock,  ticking  between  the  north  windows 
over  the  wash-stand,  indicated  midnight,  and 
the  battery  commander  turned  away  in  vexation 
of  spirit.  Lieutenant  Doyle  had  no  authority  to 
be  absent  from  the  post. 

It  was  still  dark  and  storming  furiously  when 
the  bugles  of  the  battery  sounded  the  reveille, 
and  by  the  light  of  the  swinging  lanterns  the 
men  marched  away  in  their  canvas  stable  rig, 


106  WARING >S  PERIL. 

looking  like  a  column  of  ghosts.  Yet,  despite 
the  gale  and  the  torrents  of  rain,  Pierce  was  in 
no  wise  surprised  to  find  Cram  at  his  elbow 
when  the  horses  were  led  out  to  water. 

"Groom  in-doors  this  morning,  Mr.  Pierce. 
Is  "Waring  home  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  Ananias  told  me  when  he  brought 
me  up  my  coffee." 

"  Hold  the  morning  report,  then,  until  I  come 
to  the  office.  I  fear  we  have  both  first  lieuten 
ants  to  report  absent  to-day.  You  and  I  may 
have  to  go  to  town :  so  get  your  breakfast  early. 
We  will  ride.  I  doubt  if  even  an  ambulance 
could  get  through.  Tell  me,  Pierce,  have  you 
spoken  to  Waring  about — about  that  matter  we 
were  discussing?  Has  he  ever  given  you  any 
idea  that  he  had  received  warning  of  any  kind 
from  old  Lascelles — or  any  of  his  friends  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  I've  had  no  chance  to  speak,  to  be 
sure,  and,  so  far  as  I  could  observe,  he  and  Mr. 
Lascelles  seemed  on  very  excellent  terms  only  a 
few  days  ago." 

"  Well,  I  wish  I  had  spoken  myself,"  said 
Cram,  and  turned  away. 

That  morning,  with  two  first  lieutenants  ab 
sent  without  leave,  the  report  of  Light  Battery 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  107 

"X"  went  into  the  adjutant's  office  just  as 
its  commander  and  his  junior  subaltern  went 
out  and  silently  mounted  the  dripping  horses 
standing  in  front.  The  two  orderlies,  with 
their  heads  poked  through  the  slit  of  their  pon 
chos,  briskly  seated  themselves  in  saddle,  and 
then  the  colonel  hurried  forth  just  in  time  to 
hail,— 

"  Oh,  Cram !  one  minute."  And  Cram  reined 
about  and  rode  to  the  side  of  the  post  com 
mander,  who  stood  under  the  shelter  of  the 
broad  gallery. 

"I  wouldn't  say  anything  about  this  to  any 
one  at  head-quarters  except  Reynolds.  There's 
no  one  else  on  the  staff  to  whom  "Waring  would 
apply,  is  there  ?" 

"  No  one,  sir.  Reynolds  is  the  only  man  I 
can  think  of." 

"Will  you  send  an  orderly  back  with  word 
as  soon  as  you  know  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  moment  I  hear.  And-d — shall 
I  send  you  word  from — there?" — and  Cram 
nodded  northward,  and  then,  in  a  lower  tone, — 
"  as  to  Doyle  ?" 

"  Oh,  damn  Doyle !  I  don't  care  if  he  never 
— "  But  here  the  commander  of  the  post  re- 


108  WARING'S  PERIL. 

gained  control  of  himself,  and  with  parting  wave 
of  the  hand  turned  back  to  his  office. 

Riding  in  single  file  up  the  levee,  for  the  city 
road  was  one  long  pool,  with  the  swollen  river 
on  their  left,  and  the  slanting  torrents  of  rain 
obscuring  all  objects  on  the  other  hand,  the 
party  made  its  way  for  several  squares  without 
exchanging  a  word.  Presently  the  leading  file 
came  opposite  the  high  wall  of  the  Lascelles 
place.  The  green  latticed  gate  stood  open, — an 
unusual  thing, — and  both  officers  bent  low  over 
their  pommels  and  gazed  along  the  dark,  rain 
swept  alley  to  the  pillared  portico  dimly  seen 
beyond.  Not  a  soul  was  in  sight.  The  water 
was  already  on  a  level  with  the  banquette,  and 
would  soon  be  running  across  and  into  the  gate. 
A  vagabond  dog  skulking  about  the  place  gave 
vent  to  a  mournful  howl.  A  sudden  thought 
struck  the  captain.  He  led  the  way  down  the 
elope  and  forded  across  to  the  north  side,  the 
others  following. 

"  Joyce,"  said  he  to  his  orderly,  "  dismount 
and  go  in  there  and  ring  at  the  door.  Ask  if 
Mr.  Lascelles  is  home.  If  not,  ask  if  Madame 
has  any  message  she  would  like  to  send  to  town, 
or  if  we  can  be  of  any  service." 


WARING'S  PERIL.  109 

The  soldier  was  gone  but  a  moment,  and  came 
hurrying  back,  a  negro  boy,  holding  a  long  fold 
of  matting  over  his  head  to  shed  the  rain, 
chasing  at  his  heels.  It  was  Alphonse. 

"M'sieu'  not  yet  of  return,"  said  he,  in 
labored  translation  of  his  negro  French,  "  and 
Madame  remain  chez  Madame  d'Hervilly.  I 
am  alone  wiz  my  mudder,  and  she  has  fear." 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,  I  fancy,"  said  Cram, 
reassuringly.  "  They  were  caught  by  the  storm, 
and  wisely  stayed  up-town.  I  saw  your  gate 
open,  so  we  stopped  to  inquire.  "We'll  ride  over 
to  Madame  d'Hervilly's  and  ask  for  them.  How 
came  your  gate  open  ?" 

"  Mo  connais  pas  ;  I  dunno,  sare.  It  was  lock' 
last  night." 

"Why,  that's  odd,"  said  Cram.  "Better 
bolt  it  now,  or  all  the  cattle  along  the  levee  will 
be  in  there.  You  can't  lock  out  the  water, 
though.  Who  had  the  key  besides  Mr.  Lascelles 
or  Madame  ?" 

"  Kobody,  sare ;  but  there  is  muddy  foots  all 
over  the  piazza." 

"  The  devil !  I'll  have  to  look  in  for  a  mo 
ment." 

A  nod  to  Pierce  brought  him  too  from  the 
10 


110  WARING1  S  PERIL. 

saddle,  and  the  officers  handed  their  reins  to 
the  orderlies.  Then  together  they  entered  the 
gate  and  strode  up  the  white  shell  walk,  look 
ing  curiously  about  them  through  the  dripping 
shrubbery.  Again  that  dismal  howl  was  raised, 
and  Pierce,  stopping  with  impatient  exclama 
tion,  tore  half  a  brick  from  the  yielding  border 
of  the  walk  and  sent  it  hurtling  through  the 
trees.  With  his  tail  between  his  legs,  the  brute 
darted  from  behind  a  sheltering  bush,  scurried 
away  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  glancing 
fearfully  back,  then,  halting  at  safe  distance, 
squatted  on  his  haunches  and  lifted  up  his 
mournful  voice  again. 

"  Whose  dog  is  that  ?"  demanded  Cram. 

"  M'sieu'  Philippe's :  he  not  now  here.  He  is 
de  brudder  to  Monsieur." 

At  the  steps  the  captain  bent  and  closely 
examined  them  and  the  floor  of  the  low  veranda 
to  which  they  led.  Both  were  disfigured  with 
muddy  footprints.  Pierce  would  have  gone 
still  further  in  the  investigation,  but  his  senior 
held  up  a  warning  hand. 

"Two  men  have  been  here,"  he  muttered. 
"  They  have  tried  the  door  and  tried  the  blinds. 
— "Where  did  you  sleep  last  night,  boy?"  and 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  Ill 

with  the  words  he  turned  suddenly  on  the  negro. 
"  Did  you  hear  no  sound  ?" 

"No,  sare.  I  sleep  in  my  bed, — 'way  back. 
No,  I  hear  noting, — noting."  And  now  the 
negro's  face  was  twitching,  his  eyes  staring. 
Something  in  the  soldier's  stern  voice  told  him 
that  there  was  tragedy  in  the  air. 

"  If  this  door  is  locked,  go  round  and  open 
it  from  within,"  said  Cram,  briefly.  Then,  as 
Alphonse  disappeared  around  the  north  side,  he 
stepped  back  to  the  shell  walk  and  followed  one 
of  its  branches  around  the  other.  An  instant 
later  Pierce  heard  him  call.  Hastening  in  his 
wake,  the  youngster  came  upon  his  captain 
standing  under  a  window,  one  of  whose  blinds 
was  hanging  partly  open,  water  standing  in  pools 
all  around  him. 

"Look  here,"  was  all  he  said,  and  pointed 
upward. 

The  sill  was  above  the  level  of  their  heads, 
but  both  could  see  that  the  sash  was  raised. 
All  was  darkness  within. 

"  Come  with  me,"  was  Cram's  next  order,  and 
the  lieutenant  followed.  Alphonse  was  unlock 
ing  the  front  door,  and  now  threw  it  open. 
Cram  strode  into  the  wide  hall-way  straight  to  a 


112  WARINQ'S  PERIL. 

door  of  the  east  side.  It  was  locked.  "  Open 
this,  Alphonse,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  not  the  key.  It  is  ever  with  M'sieu* 
Lascelles.  It  is  his  library." 

Cram  stepped  back,  gave  one  vigorous  kick 
with  a  heavy  riding-boot,  and  the  frail  door 
flew  open  with  a  crash.  For  a  moment  the 
darkness  was  such  that  no  object  could  be  dis 
tinguished  within.  The  negro  servant  hung 
back,  trembling  from  some  indefinable  dread. 
The  captain,  his  hand  on  the  door-knob,  stepped 
quickly  into  the  gloomy  apartment,  Pierce  close 
at  his  heels.  A  broad,  flat-topped  desk  stood  in 
the  centre  of  the  room.  Some  shelves  and  books 
were  dimly  visible  against  the  wall.  Some  of 
the  drawers  of  the  desk  were  open,  and  there 
was  a  litter  of  papers  on  the  desk,  and  others 
were  strown  in  the  big  rattan  chair,  some  on 
the  floor.  Two  student-lamps  could  be  dimly 
distinguished,  one  on  the  big  desk,  another  on  a 
little  reading-table  placed  not  far  from  the  south 
window,  whose  blinds,  half  open,  admitted 
almost  the  only  light  that  entered  the  room. 
With  its  head  near  this  reading-table  and  faintly 
visible,  a  bamboo  lounge  stretched  its  length 
towards  the  southward  windows,  where  all  was 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  113 

darkness,  and  something  vague  and  indistin 
guishable  lay  extended  upon  the  lounge.  Cram 
marched  half-way  across  the  floor,  then  stopped 
short,  glanced  down,  and  stepped  quickly  to  one 
Bide,  shifting  his  heavily-booted  feet  as  though 
to  avoid  some  such  muddy  pool  as  those  en 
countered  without. 

"  Take  care,"  he  whispered,  and  motioned 
warningly  to  Pierce.  "  Come  here  and  open 
these  shutters,  Alphonse,"  were  the  next  words. 
But  once  again  that  prolonged,  dismal,  mourn 
ful  howl  was  heard  under  the  south  window, 
and  the  negro,  seized  with  uncontrollable  panic, 
turned  back  and  clung  trembling  to  the  opposite 
wall. 

"  Send  one  of  the  men  for  the  post  surgeon 
at  once,  then  come  back  here,"  said  the  cap 
tain,  and  Pierce  hastened  to  the  gate.  As  he 
returned,  the  west  shutters  were  being  thrown 
open.  There  was  light  when  he  re-entered  the 
room,  and  this  was  what  he  saw.  On  the  China 
matting,  running  from  underneath  the  sofa,  fed 
by  heavy  drops  from  above,  a  dark  wet  stain. 
On  the  lounge,  stretched  at  full  length,  a  stif 
fening  human  shape,  a  yellow-white,  parch 
ment-like  face  above  the  black  clothing,  a  bluish, 
A  10* 


114  WARIXG'S  PERIL. 

half-opened  mouth  whose  yellow  teeth  showed 
savagely,  a  fallen  chin  and  jaw,  covered  with  the 
gray  stubble  of  unshaved  beard,  and  two  staring, 
sightless,  ghastly  eyes  fixed  and  upturned  as 
though  in  agonized  appeal.  Stone-dead, — mur 
dered,  doubtless, — all  that  was  left  of  the  little 
Frenchman  Lascelles. 


WARLVQ'S  PERIL.  115 


CHAPTER  Y. 

ALL  that  day  the  storm  raged  in  fdry;  the 
levee  road  was  blocked  in  places  by  the  boughs 
torn  from  overhanging  trees,  and  here,  there, 
and  everywhere  turned  into  a  quagmire  by  the 
torrents  that  could  find  no  adequate  egress  to 
the  northward  swamps.  For  over  a  mile  above 
the  barracks  it  looked  like  one  vast  canal,  and 
by  nine  o'clock  it  was  utterly  impassable.  Ko 
cars  were  running  on  the  dilapidated  road  to  the 
"  half-way  house,"  whatever  they  might  be  doing 
beyond.  There  was  only  one  means  of  commu 
nication  between  the  garrison  and  the  town,  and 
that,  on  horseback  along  the  crest  of  the  levee, 
and  people  in  the  second-story  windows  of  the 
store-  and  dwelling-houses  along  the  other  side 
of  the  way,  driven  aloft  by  the  drenched  con 
dition  of  the  ground  floor,  were  surprised  to  see 
the  number  of  times  some  Yankee  soldier  or 
other  made  the  dismal  trip.  Cram,  with  a  party 
of  four,  was  perhaps  the  first.  Before  the  drip- 


116  WARING' S  PERIL. 

ping  sentries  of  the  old  guard  were  relieved  at 
nine  o'clock  every  man  and  woman  at  the  bar 
racks  was  aware  that  foul  murder  had  been  done 
during  the  night,  and  that  old  Lascelles,  slain 
by  some  unknown  hand,  slashed  and  hacked  in 
a  dozen  places,  according  to  the  stories  afloat, 
lay  in  his  gloomy  old  library  up  the  levee  road, 
with  a  flood  already  a  foot  deep  wiping  out  from 
the  grounds  about  the  house  all  traces  of  hia 
assailants.  Dr.  Denslow,  in  examining  the  body, 
found  just  one  deep,  downward  stab,  entering 
above  the  upper  rib  and  doubtless  reaching  the 
heart, — a  stab  made  by  a  long,  straight,  sharp, 
two-edged  blade.  He  had  been  dead  evidently 
some  hours  when  discovered  by  Cram,  who  had 
now  gone  to  town  to  warn  the  authorities,  old 
Brax  meantime  having  taken  upon  himself  the 
responsibility  of  placing  a  guard  at  the  house, 
with  orders  to  keep  Alphonse  and  his  mother  in 
and  everybody  else  out. 

It  is  hardly  worth  while  to  waste  time  on  the 
various  theories  advanced  in  the  garrison  as  to 
the  cause  and  means  of  the  dreadful  climax. 
That  Doyle  should  be  away  from  the  post 
provoked  neither  comment  nor  speculation :  he 
was  not  connected  in  any  way  with  the  tragedy. 


WARING'S  PERIL.  117 

But  the  fact  that  Mr.  Waring  was  ahsent  all 
night,  coupled  with  the  stories  of  his  devotions 
to  Madame,  was  to  several  minds  prima  facie 
evidence  that  his  was  the  bloody  hand  that 
wrought  the  deed, — that  he  was  now  a  fugitive 
from  justice,  and  Madame  Lascelles,  beyond 
doubt,  the  guilty  partner  of  his  flight.  Every 
body  knew  by  this  time  of  their  being  together 
much  of  the  morning:  how  could  people  help 
knowing,  when  Dryden  had  seen  them  ?  In  his 
elegantly  jocular  way,  Dryden  was  already  con 
doling  with  Ferry  on  the  probable  loss  of  his 
Hatfield  clothes,  and  comforting  him  with  the 
assurance  that  they  always  gave  a  feller  a  new 
black  suit  to  be  hanged  in,  so  he  might  get  his 
duds  back  after  all,  only  they  must  get  "Waring 
first.  Jeffers  doubtless  would  have  been  besieged 
with  questions  but  for  Cram's  foresight :  his  mas 
ter  had  ordered  him  to  accompany  him  to  town. 
In  silence  a  second  time  the  little  party  rode 
away,  passing  the  flooded  homestead  where  lay 
the  murdered  man,  then,  farther  on,  gazing  in 
mute  curiosity  at  the  closed  shutters  of  the 
premises  some  infantry  satirists  had  already 
christened  "the  dove-cot"  What  cared  they 
for  him  or  his  objectionable  helpmate?  Still, 


118  WARING1  S  PERIL. 

they  could  not  but  note  how  gloomy  and  de 
serted  it  all  appeared,  with  two  feet  of  water 
lapping  the  garden  wall.  Summoned  by  hia 
master,  Jeffers  knuckled  his  oil-skin  hat-brim 
and  pointed  out  the  spot  where  Mr.  Waring 
stood  when  he  knocked  the  cabman  into  the 
mud,  but  Jeffers's  tongue  was  tied  and  his 
cockney  volubility  gone.  The  tracks  made  by 
Cram's  wagon  up  the  slope  were  already  washed 
out.  Bending  forward  to  dodge  the  blinding 
storm,  the  party  pushed  along  the  embankment 
until  at  last  the  avenues  and  alleys  to  their  right 
gave  proof  of  better  drainage.  At  Rampart 
Street  they  separated,  Pierce  going  on  to  re 
port  the  tragedy  to  the  police,  Cram  turning  to 
his  right  and  following  the  broad  thoroughfare 
another  mile,  until  Jeffers,  indicating  a  big,  old- 
fashioned,  broad-galleried  Southern  house  stand 
ing  in  the  midst  of  grounds  once  trim  and  hand 
some,  but  now  showing  signs  of  neglect  and 
penury,  simply  said,  "  'Ere,  sir."  And  here  the 
party  dismounted. 

Cram  entered  the  gate  and  pulled  a  clanging 
bell.  The  door  was  almost  instantly  opened  by 
a  colored  girl,  at  whose  side,  with  eager  joyous 
face,  was  the  pretty  child  he  had  seen  so  often 


WARING' S  PERIL.  119 

playing  about  the  Lascelles  homestead,  and  the 
eager  joyous  look  faded  instantly  away. 

"  She  t'ink  it  M'sieur  Vareeng  who  comes  to 
arrive,"  explained  the  smiling  colored  girl. 

"Ah!  It  is  Madame  d'Hervilly  I  wish  to 
see,"  answered  Cram,  briefly.  "  Please  take  her 
my  card."  And,  throwing  off  his  dripping  rain 
coat  and  tossing  it  to  Jeffers,  who  had  followed 
to  the  veranda,  the  captain  stepped  within  the 
hall  and  held  forth  his  hands  to  Kin  Nin, 
begging  her  to  come  to  him  who  was  so  good 
a  friend  of  Mr.  "Waring.  But  she  would  not. 
The  tears  of  disappointment  were  in  the  dark 
eyes  as  the  little  one  turned  and  ran  away. 
Cram  could  hear  the  gentle,  soothing  tones  of 
the  mother  striving  to  console  her  child, — the 
one  widowed  and  the  other  orphaned  by  the 
tidings  he  bore.  Even  then  he  noted  how 
musical,  how  full  of  rich  melody,  was  that  soft 
Creole  voice.  And  then  Madame  d'Hervilly 
appeared,  a  stately,  dignified,  picturesque  gentle 
woman  of  perhaps  fifty  years.  She  greeted  him 
with  punctilious  civility,  but  with  manner  as 
distant  as  her  words  were  few. 

"  I  have  come  on  a  trying  errand,"  he  began, 
when  she  held  up  a  slender,  jewelled  hand. 


120  WARINO'S  PERIL. 

"  Pardon.  Permettez. — Madame  Lascelles,"  she 
called,  and  before  Cram  could  find  words  to 
interpose,  a  servant  was  speeding  to  summon 
the  very  woman  he  had  hoped  not  to  have  to 
see. 

"  Oh,  madame,"  he  murmured  low,  hurriedly, 
"I  deplore  my  ignorance.  I  cannot  speak 
French.  Try  to  understand  me.  Mr.  Lascelles 
is  home,  dangerously  stricken.  I  fear  the  worst. 
You  must  tell  her." 

"  'Ome !    Ld,  bos  ?     C'est  impossible." 

"It  is  true,"  he  burst  in,  for  the  swish  of 
silken  skirt  was  heard  down  the  long  passage. 
"II  est  morty — mart"  he  whispered,  mustering  up 
what  little  French  he  knew  and  then  cursing 
himself  for  an  imbecile. 

"Mort!  Ociel!"  The  words  came  with  a 
shriek  of  anguish  from  the  lips  of  the  elder 
woman  and  were  echoed  by  a  scream  from  be 
yond.  In  an  instant,  wild-eyed,  horror-stricken, 
Emilie  Lascelles  had  sprung  to  her  tottering 
mother's  side. 

"  When  ?    What  mean  you  ?"  she  gasped. 

"  Madame  Lascelles,"  he  sadly  spoke,  "  I  had 
hoped  to  spare  you  this,  but  it  is  too  late  now. 
Mr.  Lascelles  was  found  lying  on  the  sofa  in  his 


WARING'S  PERIL.  121 

library  this  morning.  He  had  died  hours  be 
fore,  during  the  night." 

And  then  he  had  to  spring  and  catch  the 
fainting  woman  in  his  arms.  She  was  still 
moaning,  and  only  semi-conscious,  when  the  old 
family  doctor  and  her  brother,  Pierre  d'Hervilly, 
arrived. 

Half  an  hour  later  Cram  astonished  the  aides- 
de-camp  and  other  bored  staff  officials  by  ap 
pearing  at  the  general  loafing-room  at  head 
quarters.  To  the  chorus  of  inquiry  as  to  what 
brought  him  up  in  such  a  storm  he  made  brief 
reply,  and  then  asked  immediately  to  speak  with 
the  adjutant-general  and  Lieutenant  Reynolds, 
and,  to  the  disgust  and  mystification  of  all  the 
others,  he  disappeared  with  these  into  an  adjoin 
ing  room.  There  he  briefly  told  the  former  of 
the  murder,  and  then  asked  for  a  word  with  the 
junior. 

Reynolds  was  a  character.  Tall,  handsome, 
and  distinguished,  he  had  served  throughout  the 
war  as  a  volunteer,  doing  no  end  of  good  work, 
and  getting  many  a  word  of  praise,  but,  as  all 
his  service  was  as  a  staff  officer,  it  was  his 
general  who  reaped  the  reward  of  his  labors. 
He  had  risen,  of  course,  to  the  rank  of  major  in 

T  11 


122  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

the  staff  in  the  volunteers,  and  everybody  had 
prophesied  that  he  would  be  appointed  a  major 
in  the  adjutant-  or  inspector-general's  depart 
ment  in  the  permanent  establishment.  But 
there  were  not  enough  places  by  any  means,  and 
the  few  vacancies  went  to  men  who  knew  better 
how  to  work  for  themselves.  "  Take  a  lieuten 
ancy  now,  and  we  will  fix  you  by  and  by,"  was 
the  suggestion,  and  so  it  resulted  that  here  he 
was  three  years  after  the  war  wearing  the 
modest  strap  of  a  second  lieutenant,  doing  the 
duties  and  accepting  the  responsibilities  of  a  far 
higher  grade,  and  being  patronized  by  seniors 
who  were  as  much  his  inferiors  in  rank  as  they 
were  in  ability  during  the  war  days.  Everybody 
said  it  was  a  shame,  and  nobody  helped  to  better 
his  lot.  He  was  a  man  whose  counsel  was  valu 
able  on  all  manner  of  subjects.  Among  other 
things,  he  was  well  versed  in  all  that  pertained 
to  the  code  of  honor  as  it  existed  in  the  ante 
bellum  days, — had  himself  been  "  out,"  and,  as 
was  well  known,  had  but  recently  officiated  as 
second  for  an  officer  who  had  need  of  his  ser 
vices.  He  and  Waring  were  friends  from  the 
start,  and  Cram  counted  on  tidings  of  his  absent 
subaltern  in  appealing  to  him.  Great,  therefore, 


WARING' S  PERIL  123 

was  his  consternation  when  in  reply  to  his  in 
quiry  Reynolds  promptly  answered  that  he  had 
neither  seen  nor  heard  from  Waring  in  over 
forty-eight  hours.  This  was  a  facer. 

"  What's  wrong,  Cram  ?" 

"Read  that,"  said  the  captain,  placing  a 
daintily-written  note  in  the  aide-de-camp's  hand. 
It  was  brief,  but  explicit  : 

"  COLONEL  BRAXTON  :  Twice  have  I  warned 
you  that  the  attentions  of  your  Lieutenant 
Waring  to  Madame  Lascelles  meant  mischief. 
This  morning,  under  pretence  of  visiting  her 
mother,  she  left  the  house  in  a  cab,  but  in 
half  an  hour  was  seen  driving  with  Mr.  Wa 
ring.  This  has  been,  as  I  have  reason  to  know, 
promptly  carried  to  Monsieur  Lascelles  by  peo 
ple  whom  he  had  employed  for  the  purpose. 
I  could  of  told  you  last  night  that  Monsieur 
Lascelles's  friend  had  notified  Lieutenant  Wa 
ring  that  a  duel  would  be  exacted  should  he  be 
seen  with  Madame  again,  and  now  it  will  cer 
tainly  come.  You  have  seen  fit  to  scorn  my 
warnings  hitherto,  the  result  is  on  your  head." 
There  was  no  signature  whatever. 

"  Who  wrote  this  rot  ?"  asked  Reynolds.  "  It 
seems  to  me  I've  seen  that  hand  before." 


124  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

"So  have  I,  and  pitched  the  trash  into  the 
fire,  as  I  do  everything  anonymous  that  comes 
my  way.  But  Brax  says  that  this  is  the  second 
or  third,  and  he's  worried  about  it,  and  thinks 
there  may  be  truth  in  the  story." 

"As  to  the  duel,  or  as  to  the  devotions  to 
Madame  ?"  asked  Reynolds,  calmly. 

"  "We-11,  both,  and  we  thought  you  would  be 
most  apt  to  know  whether  a  fight  was  on.  Wa 
ring  promised  to  return  to  the  post  at  taps  last 
night.  Instead  of  that,  he  is  gone, — God  knows 
where, — and  the  old  man,  the  reputed  chal 
lenger,  lies  dead  at  his  home.  Isn't  that  ugly  ?" 

Reynolds's  face  grew  very  grave. 

"  "Who  last  saw  Waring,  that  you  know  of?" 

"My  man  JefFers  left  him  on  Canal  Street 
just  after  dark  last  night.  He  was  then  going 
to  dine  with  friends  at  the  St.  Charles." 

"The  Allertons?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  wait  till  I  see  the  chief,  and  Til  go 
with  you.  Say  nothing  about  this  matter  yet." 

Reynolds  was  gone  but  a  moment.  A  little 
later  Cram  and  the  aide  were  at  the  St.  Charles 
rotunda,  their  cards  sent  up  to  the  Allertons' 
rooms.  Presently  down  came  the  bell-boy. 


WARING' S  PERIL.  125 

"Would  the  gentleman  walk  up  to  the  parlor? 
This  was  awkward.  They  wanted  to  see  Aller- 
ton  himself,  and  Cram  felt  morally  confident 
that  Miss  Flora  Gwendolen  would  be  on  hand 
to  welcome  and  chat  with  so  distinguished  a 
looking  fellow  as  Reynolds.  There  was  no  help 
for  it,  however.  It  would  be  possible  to  draw 
off  the  head  of  the  family  after  a  brief  call 
upon  the  ladies.  Just  as  they  were  leaving  the 
marble-floored  rotunda,  a  short,  swarthy  man  in 
"pepper-and-salt"  business  suit  touched  Cram 
on  the  arm,  begged  a  word,  and  handed  him  a 
card. 

"A  detective, — already?"  asked  Cram,  in 
surprise. 

"  I  was  with  the  chief  when  Lieutenant  Pierce 
came  in  to  report  the  matter,"  was  the  brief  re 
sponse,  "  and  I  came  here  to  see  your  man.  He 
is  reluctant  to  tell  what  he  knows  without  your 
consent.  Could  you  have  him  leave  the  horses 
with  your  orderly  below  and  come  up  here  a 
moment  ?" 

"  Why,  certainly,  if  you  wish;  but  I  can't  see 
why,"  said  Cram,  surprised. 

"You  will  see,  sir,  in  a  moment." 

And  then  Jeffers,  with  white,  troubled  face, 
11* 


126  WARINQ'S   PERIL. 

appeared,  and  twisted  his  wet  hat-brim  in 
nervous  worriment. 

"Now  what  do  you  want  of  him?"  asked 
Cram. 

"  Ask  him,  sir,  who  was  the  man  who  slipped 
a  greenback  into  his  hand  at  the  ladies'  entrance 
last  evening.  What  did  he  want  of  him  ?" 

Jeffers  turned  a  greenish  yellow.  His  every 
impulse  was  to  lie,  and  the  detective  saw  it. 

"You  need  not  lie,  Jeffers,"  he  said,  very 
quietly.  "  It  will  do  no  good.  I  saw  the  men. 
I  can  tell  your  master  who  one  of  them  was,  and 
possibly  lay  my  hands  on  the  second  when  he  is 
wanted ;  but  I  want  you  to  tell  and  to  explain 
what  that  greenback  meant." 

Then  Jeffers  broke  down  and  merely  blub 
bered. 

"  Hi  meant  no  'arm,  sir.  Hi  never  dreamed 
there  was  hanythink  wrong.  'Twas  Mr.  Las- 
celles,  sir.  'E  said  'e  came  to  thank  me  for 
'elping  ?is  lady,  sir.  Then  'e  wanted  to  see  Mr. 
Warink,  sir." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  of  this  before?" 
demanded  the  captain,  sternly.  "You  know 
what  happened  this  morning." 

"  Hi  didn't  want  to  'ave  Mr.  Warink  suspected, 


W A  RING'S  PERIL.  127 

sir,"  was  poor  Jeffers's  half-tearful  explanation, 
as  Mr.  Allerton  suddenly  entered  the  little  hall 
way  room. 

The  grave,  troubled  faces  caught  his  eye  at 
once. 

"  Is  anything  wrong?"  he  inquired,  anxiously. 
"  I  hope  Waring  is  all  right.  I  tried  to  induce 
him  not  to  start,  but  he  said  he  had  promised 
and  must  go." 

"  What  time  did  he  leave  you,  Mr.  Allerton  ?" 
asked  Cram,  controlling  as  much  as  possible  the 
tremor  of  his  voice. 

"  Soon  after  the  storm  broke, — about  nine- 
thirty,  I  should  say.  He  tried  to  get  a  cab 
earlier,  but  the  drivers  wouldn't  agree  to  go 
down  for  anything  less  than  a  small  fortune. 
Luckily,  his  Creole  friends  had  a  carriage." 

"His  what?" 

"His  friends  from  near  the  barracks.  They 
were  here  when  we  came  down  into  the  rotunda 
to  smoke  after  dinner." 

Cram  felt  his  legs  and  feet  grow  cold  and  a 
chill  run  up  his  spine. 

"Who  were  they?  Did  you  catch  their 
names  ?" 

"  Only  one.     I  was  introduced  only  as  they 


128  WARING' S  PERIL. 

were  about  to  drive  away.     A  little  old  fellow 
with  elaborate  manners, — a  Monsieur  Lascelles." 
"  And  Waring  drove  away  with  him  ?" 
"Yes,  with  him  and  one  other.     Seemed  to 
be  a  friend  of  Lascelles.     Drove  off  in  a  closed 
carriage  with  a  driver  all  done  up  in  rubber  and 
oil-skin  who  said  he  perfectly  knew  the  road. 
Why,  what's  gone  amiss  ?" 


WARING1  S  PERIL.  129 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AND  all  day  long  the  storm  beat  upon  the 
substantial  buildings  of  the  old  barracks  and 
flooded  the  low  ground  about  the  sheds  and 
stables.  Drills  for  the  infantry  were  necessarily 
suspended,  several  sentries,  even,  being  taken 
off  their  posts.  The  men  clustered  in  the  squad- 
rooms  and  listened  with  more  or  less  credulity 
to  the  theories  and  confirmatory  statements  of 
fact  as  related  by  the  imaginative  or  loquacious 
of  their  number.  The  majority  of  the  officers 
gathered  under  the  flaring  lamp-lights  at  the 
sutler's  store  and  occupied  themselves  pretty 
much  as  did  their  inferiors  in  grade,  though 
poker  and  punch — specialties  of  Mr.  Finkbein, 
the  sutler — lent  additional  color  to  the  stories  in 
circulation. 

From  this  congress  the  better  element  of  the 

commissioned    force    was    absent,    the    names, 

nationalities,    and     idiomatic    peculiarities    of 

speech  of  the  individual  members  being  iden- 

I 


130  WARING* S  PERIL. 

tical  in  most  instances  with  those  of  their  com 
rades  in  arms  in  the  ranks.  "  Brax"  had 
summoned  Minor,  Lawrence,  Kinsey,  and  Dry- 
den  to  hear  what  the  post  surgeon  had  to  say  on 
his  return,  hut  cautioned  them  to  keep  quiet. 
As  a  result  of  this  precaution,  the  mystery  of 
the  situation  became  redoubled  by  one  o'clock, 
and  was  intensified  by  two,  when  it  was  an 
nounced  that  Private  Dawson  had  attempted  to 
break  away  out  of  the  hospital  after  a  visit  from 
the  same  doctor  in  his  professional  capacity. 
People  were  tempted  out  on  their  galleries  in 
the  driving  storm,  and  colored  servants  flitted 
from  kitchen  to  kitchen  to  gather  or  dispense 
new  rumors,  but  nobody  knew  what  to  make  of 
it  when,  soon  after  two,  an  orderly  rode  in  from 
town  dripping  with  mud  and  wet,  delivered  a 
note  to  the  colonel,  and  took  one  from  him  to 
Mr.  Ferry,  now  sole  representative  of  the  offi 
cers  of  Battery  "  X"  present  for  duty.  Ferry 
in  return  sent  the  bedraggled  horseman  on  to 
the  battery  quarters  with  an  order  to  the  first 
sergeant,  and  in  about  fifteen  minutes  a  sergeant 
and  two  men,  mounted  and  each  leading  a  spare 
horse,  appeared  under  Ferry's  gallery,  and  that 
officer  proceeded  to  occupy  one  of  the  vacant 


WARIXG'S  PERIL.  131 

saddles,  and,  followed  by  his  party,  went  clatter 
ing  out  of  the  sally-port  and  splashing  over  to 
the  levee.  Stable-call  sounded  as  usual  at  four 
o'clock,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  the  record  of 
that  disciplined  organization  since  the  devas 
tating  hand  of  Yellow  Jack  was  laid  upon  it  the 
previous  year,  no  officer  appeared  to  supervise 
the  grooming  and  feeding.  Two  of  them  were 
at  the  post,  however.  Mr.  Doyle,  in  arrest  on 
charge  of  absence  without  leave,  was  escorted  to 
his  quarters  about  four-fifteen,  and  was  promptly 
visited  by  sympathizing  and  inquisitive  com 
rades  from  the  Hotel  Finkbein,  while  Mr.  Ferry, 
who  had  effected  the  arrest,  was  detained 
making  his  report  to  the  post  commander. 
Night  came  on  apace,  the  wind  began  to  die 
away  with  the  going  down  of  the  sun,  the  rain 
ceased  to  fall,  a  pallid  moon  began  peering  at, 
odd  intervals  through  rifts  in  the  cloudy  veil, 
when  Cram  rode  splashing  into  barracks,  worn 
with  anxiety  and  care,  at  eleven  o'clock,  and, 
stopping  only  for  a  moment  to  take  his  wife  in 
his  arms  and  kiss  her  anxious  face  and  shake  his 
head  in  response  to  her  eager  query  for  news  of 
Waring,  he  hurried  down-stairs  again  and  over 
to  Boyle's  quarters.  All  was  darkness  there, 


132  WARING'S  PERIL. 

but  lie  never  hesitated.  Tramping  loudly  over 
the  gallery,  he  banged  at  the  door,  then,  turn 
ing  the  knob,  intending  to  burst  right  in,  as 
was  the  way  in  the  rough  old  days,  was  sur 
prised  to  find  the  bolt  set. 

"  Doyle,  open.    I  want  to  see  you  at  once." 

All  silence  within. 

"  Doyle,  open,  or,  if  you  are  too  drunk  to  get 
up,  I'll  kick  in  the  door." 

A  groan,  a  whispered  colloquy,  then  the  rat 
tle  of  bolt  and  chain.  The  door  opened  about 
an  inch,  and  an  oily  Irish  voice  inquired, — 

"  Hwat's  wanted,  capt'in  ?" 

"You  here?"  exclaimed  Cram,  in  disgust. 
"  What  business  have  you  in  this  garrison  ?  If 
the  colonel  knew  it,  you'd  be  driven  out  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet." 

"  Sure  where  should  wife  be  but  at  her  hus 
band's  side  whin  he's  sick  and  sufferin'  ?  Didn't 
they  root  him  out  of  bed  and  comfort  this  day 
and  ride  him  down  like  a  felon  in  all  the  storm  ? 
Sure  it  was  the  doughboys'  orders,  sir.  I  told 
Doyle  the  capt'in  niver  would  have " 

"Oh,  be  quiet:  I  must  see  Doyle,  and  at 
once." 

"  Sure  he's  not  able,  capt'in.    You  know  how 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  133 

it  is  wid  him:  he's  that  sinsitive  he  couldn't 
bear  to  talk  of  the  disgrace  he's  bringin'  on  the 
capt'in  and  the  batthery,  and  I  knowed  he'd 
been  dhrinkin',  sir,  and  I  came  back  to  look  for 
him,  but  he'd  got  started,  capt'in,  and  it's " 

"Stop  this  talk!  He  wasn't  drinking  at  all 
until  you  came  back  here  to  hound  him.  Open 
that  door,  or  a  file  of  the  guard  will." 

"  Och !  thin  wait  till  I'm  dressed,  fur  da- 
cency's  sake,  capt'in.  Sure  I'll  thry  and  wake 
him." 

And  then  more  whispering,  the  clink  of  glass, 
maudlin  protestation  in  Doyle's  thick  tones. 
Cram  banged  at  the  door  and  demanded  instant 
obedience.  Admitted  at  last,  he  strode  to  the 
side  of  an  ordinary  hospital  cot,  over  which  the 
mosquito-bar  was  now  ostentatiously  drawn,  and 
upon  which  was  stretched  the  bulky  frame  of 
the  big  Irishman,  his  red,  blear-eyed,  bloated 
face  half  covered  in  his  arms.  The  close  air 
reeked  with  the  fumes  of  whiskey.  In  her  dis 
tress  lest  Jim  should  take  too  much,  the  claim 
ant  of  his  name  and  protection  had  evidently 
been  sequestrating  a  large  share  for  herself. 

"How  on  earth  did  you  get  here?  Your 
house  was  flooded  all  day,"  angrily  asked  Cram. 
12 


134  WARING1  S  PERIL. 

"  Sure  we  made  a  raft,  sir, — 'Louette  and  me, 
— and  poled  over  to  the  levee,  and  I  walked 
every  fut  of  the  way  down  to  follow  me  hus 
band,  as  I  swore  I  would  whin  we  was  married. 
I'd  'a'  come  in  Anatole's  boat,  sir,  but  'twas 
gone, — gone  since  last  night.  Did  ye  know 
that,  capt'in  ?" 

A  groan  and  a  feverish  toss  from  the  occupant 
of  the  narrow  bed  interrupted  her. 

"Hush,  Jim  darlin'!  Here's  the  capt'in  to 
Bee  you  and  tell  you  he's  come  back  to  have  you 
roighted.  Sure  how  could  a  poor  fellow  be 
expected  to  come  home  in  all  that  awful  storm 
this  mornin',  capt'in?  'Tis  for  not  comin'  the 
colonel  had  him  under  arrest ;  but  I  tell  him  the 
capt'in  '11  see  him  through." 

But  Cram  pushed  her  aside  as  she  still  inter 
posed  between  him  and  the  bed. 

"  Doyle,  look  up  and  answer.    Doyle,  I  say !" 

Again  vehement  protestations,  and  now  an 
outburst  of  tears  and  pleadings,  from  the  woman. 

"  Oh,  he  can't  understand  you,  capt'in.  Ah, 
don't  be  hard  on  him.  Only  this  mornin'  he 
was  sayin'  how  the  capt'in  reminded  him  of  the 
ould  foine  days  whin  the  officers  was  all  gintle- 
men  and  soldiers.  He's  truer  to  ye  than  all  the 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  135 

rest  of  thim,  sir.  D'ye  moind  that,  capt'in? 
Ye  wouldn't  belave  it,  mabby,  but  there's  them 
that  can  tell  ye  Loot'nant  Waring  was  no  friend 
of  yours,  sir,  and  worse  than  that,  if  ould  Las- 
celles  could  spake  now — but  there's  thim  left 
that  can,  glory  be  to  God !" 

"  Oh,  for  God's  sake  shut  up !"  spoke  Cram, 
roughly,  goaded  beyond  all  patience.  "  Doyle, 
answer  me !"  And  he  shook  him  hard.  "  You 
were  at  the  Pelican  last  night,  and  you  saw  Mr. 
Waring  and  spoke  with  him.  What  did  he 
want  of  you  ?  Where  did  he  go  ?  Who  were 
with  him?  Was  there  any  quarrel?  Answer, 
I  say !  Do  you  know  ?"  But  maudlin  moaning 
and  incoherencies  were  all  that  Cram  could 
extract  from  the  prostrate  man.  Again  the 
woman  interposed,  eager,  tearful. 

" Sure  he  was  there,  capt'in,  he  was  there;  he 
told  me  of  it  whin  I  fetched  him  home  last  night 
to  git  him  out  of  the  storm  and  away  from  that 
place ;  but  he's  toq  dhrunk  now  to  talk.  Sure 
there  was  no  gittin'  down  here  to  barx  for  any- 
body.  The  cabman,  sir,  said  no  carriage  could 
make  it." 

"  What  cabman  ?  That's  one  thing  I  want  to 
know.  Who  is  he  ?  What  became  of  him  ?" 


136  WARING'S  PERIL. 

"  Sure  and  how  do  I  know,  sir  ?  He  was  a 
quiet,  dacent  man,  sir;  the  same  that  Mr.  "Wa 
ring  bate  so  cruel  and  made  Jeffers  kick  and 
bate  him  too.  I  saw  it  all." 

"And  was  he  at  the  Pelican  last  night?  I 
must  know." 

"Sure  he  was  indade,  sir.  Doyle  said  so 
whin  I  fetched  him  home,  and  though  he  can't 
tell  you  now,  sir,  he  told  me  thin.  They  all 
came  down  to  the  Pelican,  sir,  Waring  and  Las- 
celles  and  the  other  gintleman,  and  they  had 
dhrink,  and  there  was  trouble  between  the 
Frenchman  and  Waring, — sure  you  can't  blame 
him,  wid  his  wife  goin'  on  so  wid  the  loot'nant 
all  the  last  month, — and  blows  was  struck,  and 
Doyle  interposed  to  stop  it,  sir,  loike  the  gintle 
man  that  he  is,  and  the  cab-driver  took  a  hand 
and  pitched  him  out  into  the  mud.  Sure  he'd 
been  dhrinkin'  a  little,  sir,  and  was  aisy  upset, 
but  that's  all  he  knows.  The  carriage  drove 
away,  and  there  was  three  of  thim,  and  poor 
Doyle  got  caught  out  there  in  the  mud  and  in 
the  storm,  and  'twas  me  wint  out  wid  Dawson 
and  another  of  the  byes  and  fetched  him  in. 
And  we  niver  heerd  of  the  murther  at  all  at  all, 
sir,  until  I  came  down  here  to-day,  that's  God's 


WAKING'S   PERIL.  137 

troot',  and  he'll  tell  ye  so  whin  he's  sober,"  she 
ended,  breathless,  reckless  of  her  descriptive 
confusion  of  Doyle  and  Divinity. 

And  still  the  Irishman  lay  there,  limp,  soggy, 
senseless,  and  at  last,  dismayed  and  disheartened, 
the  captain  turned  away. 

"Promise  to  sober  him  up  by  reveille,  and 
you  may  stay.  But  hear  this:  if  he  cannot 
answer  for  himself  by  that  time,  out  you  go  in 
the  battery  cart  with  a  policeman  to  take  you  to 
the  calaboose."  And  then  he  left. 

Ho  sooner  had  his  footsteps  died  away  than 
the  woman  turned  on  her  patient,  now  strug 
gling  to  a  sitting  posture. 

"  Lie  still,  you  thafe  and  cur,  and  swear  you 
to  every  word  I  say,  unless  you'd  hang  in  hia 
place.  Dhrink  this,  now,  and  go  to  slape,  and 
be  riddy  to  tell  the  story  I  give  ye  in  the  morn- 
in',  or  may  the  knife  ye  drove  in  that  poor 
mummy's  throat  come  back  to  cut  your  coward 
heart  out." 

And  Doyle,  shivering,  sobbing,  crazed  with 
drink  and  fear,  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hands 
and  threw  himself  back  on  his  hot  and  steaming 
pillow. 

The  morning  sun  rose  brilliant  and  cloudless 
12* 


138  WARING'S  PERIL. 

as  the  horses  of  the  battery  came  forth  from  the 
dark  interior  of  the  stable  and,  after  watering  at 
the  long  wooden  trough  on  the  platform,  were 
led  away  by  their  white-frocked  grooms,  each 
section  to  its  own  picket-line.  Ferry,  supervis 
ing  the  duty,  presently  caught  sight  of  the  tall 
muscular  form  of  his  captain  coming  briskly 
around  the  corner,  little  Pierce  tripping  along 
by  his  side.  Cram  acknowledged  the  salute  of 
the  battery  officer  of  the  day  in  hurried  fashion. 

"  Good-morning,  Ferry,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me, 
who  were  there  when  you  got  Doyle  away  from 
that  woman  yesterday  ?" 

"Only  the  three,  sir, — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Doyle 
and  the  negro  girl." 

"  No  sign  of  anybody  else  ?" 

"  None,  sir.  I  didn't  go  in  the  house  at  all. 
I  rode  in  the  gate  and  called  for  Doyle  to  come 
out.  The  woman  tried  to  parley,  but  I  refused 
to  recognize  her  at  all,  and  presently  Doyle 
obeyed  without  any  trouble  whatever,  though 
she  kept  up  a  tirade  all  the  time  and  said  he 
was  too  sick  to  ride,  and  all  that,  but  he  wasn't. 
He  seemed  dazed,  but  not  drunk, — certainly  not 
sick.  He  rode  all  right,  only  he  shivered  and 
crossed  himself  and  moaned  when  he  passed  the 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  139 

Lascelles  place,  for  that  hound  pup  set  up  a 
howl  just  as  we  were  opposite  the  gate.  He 
was  all  trembling  when  we  reached  the  post, 
and  took  a  big  drink  the  moment  he  got  to  hia 
room." 

"  Ye-es,  he's  been  drinking  ever  since.  I've 
just  sent  the  doctor  to  see  him.  Let  the  cor 
poral  and  one  man  of  the  guard  go  with  the 
ambulance  to  escort  Mrs.  Doyle  out  of  the  gar 
rison  and  take  her  home.  She  shall  not  stay." 

"Why,  she's  gone,  sir,"  said  Ferry.  "The 
guard  told  me  she  went  out  of  the  back  gate 
and  up  the  track  towards  Anatole's — going  for 
all  she  was  worth— just  after  dawn." 

"The  mischief  she  has!  What  can  have 
started  her  ?  Did  you  see  her  yourself,  Sergeant 
Bennett?"  asked  the  captain  of  a  stocky  little 
Irish  soldier  standing  at  the  moment  with 
drawn  sabre  awaiting  opportunity  to  speak  to 
his  commander. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  and  the  sabre  came  flashing  up  to 
the  present.  "  She'd  wint  over  to  the  hospital 
to  get  some  medicine  for  the  lieutenant  just 
after  our  bugle  sounded  first  call,  and  she  came 
runnin'  out  as  I  wint  to  call  the  officer  of  the 
day,  sir.  She  ran  back  to  the  lieutenant's  quar- 


140  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

ters  ahead  of  me,  and  was  up  only  a  minute  or 
two  whin  down  she  came  again  wid  some  bun 
dles,  and  away  she  wint  to  the  north  gate,  run- 
nin'  wild-like.  The  steward  told  me  a  moment 
after  of  Dawson's  escape." 

"  Dawson !  escaped  from  hospital  ?" 
"  Yes,  sir.    They  thought  he  was  all  right  last 
evening  when  he  was  sleeping,  and  took  the 
sentry  off,  and  at  four  this  morning  he  was 
gone." 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  141 


CHAPTER   VIL 

FORTY-EIGHT  hours  had  passed,  and  not  a  trace 
had  been  found  of  Lieutenant  Waring.  The 
civil  officers  of  the  law  had  held  grave  converse 
with  the  seniors  on  duty  at  the  barracks,  and 
Cram's  face  was  lined  with  anxiety  and  trouble. 
The  formal  inquest  was  held  as  the  flood  sub 
sided,  and  the  evidence  of  the  post  surgeon  was 
most  important.  About  the  throat  of  the  mur 
dered  man  were  indubitable  marks  of  violence. 
The  skin  was  torn  as  by  finger-nails,  the  flesh 
bruised  and  discolored  as  by  fiercely-grasping 
fingers.  But  death,  said  the  doctor,  was  caused 
by  the  single  stab.  Driven  downward  with  sav 
age  force,  a  sharp-pointed,  two-edged,  straight- 
bladed  knife  had  pierced  the  heart,  and  all  was 
over  in  an  instant.  One  other  wound  there  was, 
a  slashing  cut  across  the  stomach,  which  had  let 
a  large  amount  of  blood,  but  might  possibly  not 
have  been  mortal.  "What  part  the  deceased  had 
taken  in  the  struggle  could  only  be  conjectured. 


142  WARING'S  PERIL. 

A  little  five-chambered  revolver  which  he  habit 
ually  carried  was  found  on  the  floor  close  at 
hand.  Two  charges  had  been  recently  fired,  for 
the  barrel  was  black  with  powder;  but  no  one 
had  heard  a  shot. 

The  bar-keeper  at  the  Pelican  could  throw 
but  little  light  on  the  matter.  The  storm  had 
broken,  he  said,  with  sudden  fury.  The  rain 
dashed  in  torrents  against  his  western  front,  and 
threatened  to  beat  in  the  windows.  He  called 
to  the  two  men  who  happened  to  be  seated  at  a 
table  to  assist  him,  and  was  busy  trying  to  get 
up  the  shutters,  when  Lieutenant  Doyle  joined 
them  and  rendered  timely  aid.  He  had  fre 
quently  seen  Doyle  before  during  the  previous 
month.  Mrs.  Doyle  lived  in  the  old  Lemaitre 
house  in  the  block  below,  and  he  often  supplied 
them  with  whiskey.  They  drank  nothing  but 
whiskey.  As  they  ran  in  the  side  door  they 
were  surprised  to  see  the  lights  of  a  carriage 
standing  at  the  edge  of  the  banquette,  and  the 
driver  begged  for  shelter  for  his  team,  saying 
some  gentlemen  had  gone  inside.  The  bar 
keeper  opened  a  gate,  and  the  driver  put  hia 
horses  under  a  shed  in  a  paved  court  in  the  rear, 
then  came  in  for  a  drink.  Meantime,  said  the 


WARIXG'S  PERIL.  143 

bar-keeper,  whose  name  was  Bonelli,  three  gen 
tlemen  who  were  laughing  over  their  escape 
from  the  storm  had  ordered  wine  and  gone  into 
a  private  room,  Doyle  with  them.  The  only  one 
he  knew  was  Monsieur  Lascelles,  though  he  had 
seen  one  of  the  others  frequently  as  he  rode  by, 
and  knew  him  to  be  an  officer  before  Mr.  Doyle 
slapped  him  on  the  back  and  hailed  him  as 
"  Sammy,  old  buck !"  or  something  like  that. 
Mr.  Doyle  had  been  drinking,  and  the  gentle 
man  whispered  to  him  not  to  intrude  just  then, 
and  evidently  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him,  but  Mr. 
Lascelles,  who  had  ordered  the  wine,  demanded 
to  be  introduced,  and  would  take  no  denial,  and 
invited  Mr.  Doyle  to  join  them,  and  ordered 
more  wine.  And  then  Bonelli  saw  that  Las 
celles  himself  was  excited  by  drink, — the  first 
time  he  had  ever  noticed  it  in  the  year  he  had 
known  him.  The  third  gentleman  he  had  never 
seen  before,  and  could  only  say  he  was  dark  and 
sallow  and  did  not  talk,  except  to  urge  the 
driver  to  make  haste, — they  must  go  on ;  but  he 
spoke  in  a  low  tone  with  Mr.  Lascelles  as  they 
went  to  the  room,  and  presently  the  rain  seemed 
to  let  up  a  little,  though  it  blew  hard,  and  the 
driver  went  out  and  looked  around  and  then  re- 


144  WARING' S  PERIL. 

turned  to  the  private  room  where  the  gentlemen 
were  having  their  wine,  and  there  was  some 
angry  talk,  and  he  came  out  in  a  few  minutes 
very  mad;  said  he  wouldn't  be  hired  to  drive 
that  party  any  farther,  or  any  other  party,  for 
that  matter ;  that  no  carriage  could  go  down  the 
levee ;  and  then  he  got  out  his  team  and  drove 
back  to  town;  and  then  Bonelli  could  hear 
Bounds  of  altercation  in  the  room,  and  Mr. 
Doyle's  voice,  very  angry,  and  the  strange  gen 
tleman  came  out,  and  one  of  the  men  who'd 
been  waiting  said  he  had  a  cab,  if  that  would 
answer,  and  he'd  fetch  it  right  off,  and  by  the 
time  he  got  back  it  was  raining  hard  again,  and 
he  took  his  cab  in  under  the  shed  where  the 
carriage  had  been,  and  a  couple  of  soldiers  from 
the  barracks  then  came  in,  wet  and  cold,  and 
begged  for  a  drink,  and  Bonelli  knew  one  of 
them,  called  Dawson,  and  trusted  him,  as  he 
often  had  done  before.  When  Dawson  heard 
Lieutenant  Doyle's  drunken  voice  he  said  there'd 
be  trouble  getting  him  home,  and  he'd  better 
fetch  Mrs.  Doyle,  and  while  he  was  gone  Las- 
celles  came  out,  excited,  and  threw  down  a 
twenty-dollar  bill  and  ordered  more  Erug  and 
some  brandy,  and  there  was  still  loud  talk,  and 


WARIN& S  PERIL.  145 

when  Bonelli  carried  in  the  bottles  Doyle  was 
sitting  back  in  a  chair,  held  down  by  the  other 
officer,  who  was  laughing  at  him,  but  neverthe 
less  had  a  knife  in  hand, — a  long,  sharp,  two- 
edged  knife, — and  Doyle  was  calling  him  names, 
and  was  very  drunk,  and  soon  after  they  all 
went  out  into  the  rear  court,  and  Doyle  made 
more  noise,  and  the  cab  drove  away  around  the 
corner,  going  down  the  levee  through  the  pour 
ing  rain,  one  man  on  the  box  with  the  driver. 
That  was  the  last  he  saw.  Then  Mrs.  Doyle 
came  in  mad,  and  demanded  her  husband,  and 
they  found  him  reeling  about  the  dark  court, 
swearing  and  muttering,  and  Dawson  and  she 
took  him  off  between  them.  This  must  have 
been  before  eleven  o'clock;  and  that  was  ab 
solutely  all  he  knew. 

Then  Mr.  Allerton  had  told  his  story  again, 
without  throwing  the  faintest  light  on  the  pro 
ceedings;  and  the  hack-driver  was  found,  and 
frankly  and  fully  told  his :  that  Lascelles  and 
another  gentleman  hired  him  about  eight 
o'clock  to  drive  them  down  to  the  former's 
place,  which  they  said  was  several  squares  above 
the  barracks.  He  said  that  he  would  have  to 
charge  them  eight  dollars  such  a  night  anywhere 
o  k  13 


146  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

below  the  old  cotton-press,  where  the  pavement 
ended.  But  then  they  had  delayed  starting 
nearly  an  hour,  and  took  another  gentleman 
with  them,  and  when  driven  by  the  storm  to 
shelter  at  the  Pelican  saloon,  three  squares 
below  where  the  pavement  ended,  and  he  asked 
for  his  money,  saying  he  dare  go  no  farther  in 
the  darkness  and  the  flood,  the  Frenchman 
wouldn't  pay,  because  he  hadn't  taken  them  all 
the  way.  He  pointed  out  that  he  had  to  bring 
another  gentleman  and  had  to  wait  a  long  time, 
and  demanded  his  eight  dollars.  The  other 
gentleman,  whom  he  found  to  be  one  of  the 
officers  at  the  barracks,  slipped  a  bill  into  his 
hand  and  said  it  was  all  he  had  left,  and  if  it 
wasn't  enough  he'd  pay  him  the  next  time  he 
came  to  town.  But  the  others  were  very  angry, 
and  called  him  an  Irish  thief,  and  then  the  big 
soldier  in  uniform  said  he  wouldn't  have  a  man 
abused  because  he  was  Irish,  and  Lieutenant 
Waring,  as  he  understood  the  name  of  this 
other  officer  to  be,  told  him,  the  witness,  to  slip 
out  and  say  no  more,  that  he'd  fix  it  all  right, 
and  that  was  the  last  he  saw  of  the  party,  but 
he  heard  loud  words  and  the  sound  of  a  scuffle 
as  he  drove  away. 


WARJNG'S  PERIL.  147 

And  Madame  d'Hervilly  had  given  her  testi 
mony,  which,  translated,  was  to  this  effect.  She 
had  known  the  deceased  these  twenty  years. 
He  had  been  in  the  employ  of  her  lamented 
husband,  who  died  of  the  fever  in  '55,  and 
Monsieur  had  succeeded  to  the  business,  and 
made  money,  and  owned  property  in  town, 
besides  the  old  family  residence  on  the  levee 
below.  He  was  wedded  to  Emilie  only  a  little 
while  before  the  war,  and  lived  at  home  all 
through,  but  business  languished  then,  they  had 
to  contribute  much,  and  his  younger  brother, 
Monsieur  Philippe,  had  cost  him  a  great  deal. 
Philippe  was  an  officer  in  the  Zouaves  raised  in 
1861  among  the  French  Creoles,  and  marched 
with  them  to  Columbus,  and  was  wounded  and 
came  home  to  be  nursed,  and  Emilie  took  care 
of  him  for  weeks  and  months,  and  then  he  went 
back  to  the  war  and  fought  bravely,  and  was 
shot  again  and  brought  home,  and  this  time 
Monsieur  Lascelles  did  not  want  to  have  him 
down  at  the  house ;  he  said  it  cost  too  much  to 
get  the  doctors  down  there :  so  he  came  under 
Madame's  roof,  and  she  was  very  fond  of  the 
boy,  and  Emilie  would  come  sometimes  and 
play  and  sing  for  him.  When  the  war  was 


148  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

over  Monsieur  Lascelles  gave  him  money  to  go  to 
Mexico  with  Maximilian,  and  when  the  French 
were  recalled  many  deserted  and  came  over 
to  New  Orleans,  and  Monsieur  Lascelles  was 
making  very  little  money  now,  and  had  sold  his 
town  property,  and  he  borrowed  money  of  her 
to  help,  as  he  said,  Philippe  again,  who  came  to 
visit  him,  and  he  was  often  worried  hy  Philippe's 
letters  hegging  for  money.  Seven  thousand 
dollars  now  he  owed  her,  and  only  last  week  had 
asked  for  more.  Philippe  was  in  Key  West  to 
buy  an  interest  in  some  cigar-business.  Mon 
sieur  Lascelles  said  if  he  could  raise  three 
thousand  to  reach  Philippe  this  week  they 
would  all  make  money,  but  Emilie  begged  her 
not  to,  she  was  afraid  it  would  all  go,  and  on 
the  very  day  before  he  was  found  dead  he  came 
to  see  her  in  the  afternoon  on  Rampart  Street, 
and  Emilie  had  told  her  of  Mr.  Waring's  kind 
ness  to  her  and  to  Nin  Nin,  and  how  she  never 
could  have  got  up  after  being  dragged  into  the 
mud  by  that  drunken  cabman,  "  and  she  begged 
me  to  explain  the  matter  to  her  husband,  who 
was  a  little  vexed  with  her  because  of  Mr.  Wa 
ring."  But  he  spoke  only  about  the  money,  and 
did  not  reply  about  Mr.  Waring,  except  that  he 


WARING'S  PERIL.  149 

would  see  him  and  make  proper  acknowledg 
ment  of  his  civility.  He  seemed  to  think  only 
of  the  money,  and  said  Philippe  had  written 
again  and  must  have  help,  and  he  was  angry  at 
Emilie  because  she  would  not  urge  with  him, 
and  Emilie  wept,  and  he  went  away  in  anger, 
saying  he  had  business  to  detain  him  in  town 
until  morning,  when  he  would  expect  her  to  be 
ready  to  return  with  him. 

Much  of  this  testimony  was  evoked  by 
pointed  queries  of  the  officials,  who  seemed 
somewhat  familiar  with  Lascelles's  business  and 
family  affairs,  and  who  then  declared  that  they 
must  question  the  stricken  widow.  Harsh  and 
unfeeling  as  this  may  have  seemed,  there  were 
probably  reasons  which  atoned  for  it.  She  came 
in  on  the  arm  of  the  old  family  physician,  look 
ing  like  a  drooping  flower,  with  little  Nin  $Tin 
clinging  to  her  hand.  She  was  so  shocked  and 
stunned  that  she  could  barely  answer  the  ques 
tions  put  to  her  with  all  courtesy  and  gentle 
ness  of  manner.  !N"o,  she  had  never  heard  of 
any  quarrel  between  Monsieur  Lascelles  and  his 
younger  brother.  Yes,  Philippe  had  been  nursed 
by  her  through  his  wounds.  She  was  fond  of 
Philippe,  but  not  so  fond  as  was  her  husband. 

13* 


150  WARINQ'S  PERIL. 

Mr.  Lascelles  would  do  anything  for  Philippe, 
deny  himself  anything  almost.  Asked  if  Mon 
sieur  Lascelles  had  not  given  some  reason  for 
his  objection  to  Philippe's  being  nursed  at  his 
house  when  he  came  home  the  second  time,  she 
was  embarrassed  and  distressed.  She  said  Phi 
lippe  was  an  impulsive  boy,  fancied  himself  in 
love  with  his  brother's  wife,  and  Armand  saw 
something  of  this,  and  at  last  upbraided  him,  but 
very  gently.  There  was  no  quarrel  at  all.  Was 
there  any  one  whom  Monsieur  Lascelles  had 
been  angered  with  on  her  account  ?  She  knew 
of  none,  but  blushed,  and  blushed  painfully. 
Had  the  deceased  not  recently  objected  to  the 
attentions  paid  her  by  other  gentlemen  ?  There 
was  a  murmur  of  reproach  among  the  hearers, 
but  Madame  answered  unflinchingly,  though 
with  painful  blushes  and  tears.  Monsieur  Las 
celles  had  said  nothing  of  disapproval  until  very 
recently;  an  contraire,  he  had  much  liked  Mr. 
Waring.  He  was  the  only  one  of  the  officers 
at  the  barracks  whom  he  had  ever  invited  to  the 
house,  and  he  talked  with  him  a  great  deal; 
had  never,  even  to  her,  spoken  of  a  quarrel 
with  him  because  Mr.  Waring  had  been  so  polite 
to  her,  until  within  a  week  or  two ;  then — yes,  he 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  151 

certainly  had.  Of  her  husband's  business  affairs, 
his  papers,  etc.,  she  knew  little.  He  always  had 
certain  moneys,  though  not  large  sums,  with  all 
his  papers,  in  the  drawers  of  his  cabinet,  and 
that  they  should  be  in  so  disturbed  a  state  was 
not  unusual.  They  were  all  in  order,  closed 
and  locked,  when  he  started  for  town  the  morn 
ing  of  that  fatal  day,  but  he  often  left  them 
open  and  in  disorder,  only  then  locking  his 
library  door.  When  she  left  for  town,  two 
hours  after  him,  the  library  door  was  open,  also 
the  side  window.  She  could  throw  no  light  on 
the  tragedy.  She  had  no  idea  who  the  stranger 
could  be.  She  had  not  seen  Philippe  for  nearly 
a  year,  and  believed  him  to  be  at  Key  West. 

Alphonse,  the  colored  boy,  was  so  terrified  by 
the  tragedy  and  by  his  detention  under  the  same 
roof  with  the  murdered  man  that  his  evidence 
was  only  dragged  from  him.  Nobody  suspected 
the  poor  fellow  of  complicity  in  the  crime,  yet 
he  seemed  to  consider  himself  as  on  trial.  He 
swore  he  had  entered  the  library  only  once  dur 
ing  the  afternoon  or  evening,  and  that  was  to 
close  the  shutters  when  the  storm  broke.  He 
left  a  lamp  burning  low  in  the  hall,  according 
to  custom,  though  he  felt  sure  his  master  and 


152  WARING' S  PERIL. 

mistress  would  remain  in  town  over-night  rather 
than  attempt  to  come  down.  He  had  slept 
soundly,  as  negroes  will,  despite  the  gale  and 
the  roar  of  the  rain  that  drowned  all  other 
noises.  It  was  late  the  next  morning  when 
his  mother  called  him.  The  old  mammy  was 
frightened  to  see  the  front  gate  open,  the  deep 
water  in  the  streets,  and  the  muddy  footprints 
on  the  veranda.  She  called  Alphonse,  who 
found  that  his  master  must  have  come  in  during 
the  night,  after  all,  for  the  lamp  was  taken  from 
the  hall  table,  the  library  door  was  closed  and 
locked,  so  was  the  front  door,  also  barred  within, 
which  it  had  not  been  when  he  went  to  bed. 
He  tapped  at  the  library,  got  no  answer,  so  tip 
toed  to  his  master's  bedroom ;  it  was  empty  and 
undisturbed.  Neither  had  Madame  nor  Made 
moiselle  Kin  Nin  been  to  their  rooms.  Then 
he  was  troubled,  and  then  the  soldiers  came  and 
called  him  out  into  the  rain.  They  could  tell 
the  rest. 

Cram's  story  is  already  told,  and  he  could  add 
nothing.  The  officials  tried  to  draw  the  battery- 
man  out  as  to  the  relations  existing  between 
Lieutenant  Waring  and  Madame,  but  got  badly 
"bluffed."  Cram  said  he  had  never  seen  any- 


WARING* S  PERIL.  153 

thing  in  the  faintest  degree  worthy  of  comment. 
Had  he  heard  anything?  Yes,  but  nothing 
worthy  of  consideration,  much  less  of  repetition. 
Had  he  not  loaned  Mr.  Waring  his  team  and 
carriage  to  drive  Madame  to  town  that  morn 
ing  ?  No.  How  did  he  get  it,  then  ?  Took  it ! 
"Was  Monsieur  Waring  in  the  habit  of  helping 
himself  to  the  property  of  his  brother  officers  ? 
Yes,  whenever  he  felt  like  it,  for  they  never 
objected.  The  legal  official  thought  such  spirit 
of  camaraderie  in  the  light  artillery  must  make 
life  at  the  barracks  something  almost  poetic,  to 
which  Cram  responded,  "  Oh,  at  times  absolutely 
idyllic."  And  the  tilt  ended  with  the  civil  func 
tionary  ruffled,  and  this  was  bad  for  the  battery. 
Cram  never  had  any  policy  whatsoever. 

Lieutenant  Doyle  was  the  next  witness  sum 
moned,  and  a  more  God-forsaken-looking  fellow 
never  sat  in  a  shell  jacket.  Still  in  arrest, 
physically,  at  the  beck  of  old  Braxton,  and 
similarly  hampered,  intellectually,  at  the  will  of 
bold  John  Barleycorn,  Mr.  Doyle  came  before 
the  civil  authorities  only  upon  formal  subpoana 
served  at  post  head-quarters.  The  post  surgeon 
had  straightened  him  up  during  the  day,  but 
was  utterly  perplexed  at  his  condition.  Mrs. 


154  WARING'S  PERIL. 

Doyle's  appearance  in  the  neighborhood  some 
weeks  before  had  been  the  signal  for  a  series  of 
sprees  on  the  Irishman's  part  that  had  on  two 
occasions  so  prostrated  him  that  Dr.  Potts,  an 
acting  assistant  surgeon,  had  been  called  in  to 
prescribe  for  him,  and,  thanks  to  the  vigorous 
constitution  of  his  patient,  had  pulled  him  out 
in  a  few  hours.  But  this  time  "  Pills  the  Less" 
had  found  Doyle  in  a  state  bordering  on  terror, 
even  when  assured  that  the  quantity  of  his  pota 
tions  had  not  warranted  an  approach  to  tremens. 
The  post  surgeon  had  been  called  in  too,  and 
"  Pills  the  Pitiless,"  as  he  was  termed,  thanks  to 
his  unfailing  prescription  of  quinine  and  blue 
mass  in  the  shape  and  size  of  buckshot,  having 
no  previous  acquaintance,  in  Doyle,  with  these 
attacks,  poohpoohed  the  case,  administered  bro 
mides  and  admonition  in  due  proportion,  and 
went  off  about  more  important  business.  Dr. 
Potts,  however,  stood  by  his  big  patient,  won 
dering  what  should  cause  him  to  start  in  such 
terror  at  every  step  upon  the  stair  without,  and 
striving  to  bring  sleep  to  eyes  that  had  not 
closed  the  livelong  night  nor  all  the  balmy, 
beautiful  day.  Once  he  asked  if  Doyle  wished 
him  to  send  for  his  wife,  and  was  startled  at  the 


WARINQ'S   PERIL.  155 

vehemence  of  the  reply,  "  For  God's  sake,  no !" 
and,  shuddering,  Doyle  had  hidden  his  face  and 
turned  away.  Potts  got  him  to  eat  something 
towards  noon,  and  Doyle  begged  for  more  drink, 
but  was  refused.  He  was  sober,  yet  shattered, 
when  Mr.  Drake  suddenly  appeared  just  about 
stable-call  and  bade  him  repair  at  once  to  the 
presence  of  the  commanding  officer.  Then 
Potts  had  to  give  him  a  drink,  or  he  would 
never  have  got  there.  With  the  aid  of  a  servant 
he  was  dressed,  and,  accompanied  by  the  doctor, 
reached  the  office.  Braxton  looked  him  over 
coldly. 

"Mr.  Doyle,"  said  he,  "the  civil  authorities 

have  made  requisition  for "  But  he  had 

got  no  further  when  Doyle  staggered,  and  but 
for  the  doctor's  help  might  have  fallen. 

"  For  God's  sake,  colonel,  it  isn't  true !  Sure 
I  know  nothing  of  it  at  all  at  all,  sir.  Indade, 
indade,  I  was  blind  dhrunk,  colonel.  Sure 
they'd  swear  a  man's  life  away,  sir,  just  because 
he  was  the  one — he  was  the  one  that " 

"  Be  silent,  sir.  You  are  not  accused,  that  I 
know  of.  It  is  as  a  witness  you  are  needed. — 
Is  he  in  condition  to  testify,  doctor  ?" 

"He  is  well   enough,  sir,  to  tell  what  he 


156  WARING* S  PERIL. 

knows,  but  he  claims  to  know  nothing."  And 
this,  too,  Doyle  eagerly  seconded,  but  was  sent 
along  in  the  ambulance,  with  the  doctor  to  keep 
him  out  of  mischief,  and  a  parting  shot  to  the 
effect  that  when  the  coroner  was  through  with 
him  the  post  commander  would  take  hold  again, 
so  the  colonel  depressed  more  than  the  cocktail 
stimulated,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  almost 
the  first  person  to  meet  him  inside  the  gloomy 
enclosure  was  his  wife,  and  her  few  whispered 
words  only  added  to  his  misery. 

The  water  still  lay  in  pools  about  the 
premises,  and  the  police  had  allowed  certain 
of  the  neighbors  to  stream  in  and  stare  at  the 
white  walls  and  shaded  windows,  but  only  a 
favored  few  penetrated  the  hall-way  and  rooms 
where  the  investigation  was  being  held.  Doyle 
shook  like  one  with  the  palsy  as  he  ascended 
the  little  flight  of  steps  and  passed  into  the  open 
door-way,  still  accompanied  by  "  Little  Pills/' 
People  looked  at  him  with  marked  curiosity. 
He  was  questioned,  re-questioned,  cross-ques 
tioned,  but  the  result  was  only  a  hopeless  tangle. 
He  really  added  nothing  to  the  testimony  of  the 
hack-driver  and  Bonelli.  In  abject  remorse  and 
misery  he  begged  them  to  understand  he  was 


WARIXG'S  PERIL.  157 

drunk  when  he  joined  the  party,  got  drunker, 
dimly  remembered  there  was  a  quarrel,  but  he 
had  no  cause  to  quarrel  with  any  one,  and  that 
was  all ;  he  never  knew  how  he  got  home.  He 
covered  his  face  in  his  shaking  hands  at  last, 
and  seemed  on  the  verge  of  a  fit  of  crying. 

But  then  came  sensation. 

Quietly  rising  from  his  seat,  the  official  who 
BO  recently  had  had  the  verbal  tilt  with  Cram 
held  forth  a  rusty,  cross-hilted,  two-edged  knife 
that  looked  as  though  it  might  have  lain  in  the 
mud  and  wet  for  hours. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  this  knife  before  ?"  he 
asked.  And  Doyle,  lifting  up  his  eyes  one  in 
stant,  groaned,  shuddered,  and  said, — 

"  Oh,  my  God,  yes !" 

"  Whose  property  is  it  or  was  it  ?" 

At  first  he  would  not  reply.  He  moaned  and 
shook.  At  last — 

"  Sure  the  initials  are  on  the  top,"  he  cried. 

But  the  official  was  relentless. 

"  Tell  us  what  they  are  and  what  they 
represent." 

People  were  crowding  the  hall- way  and  forcing 
themselves  into  the  room.  Cram  and  Ferry, 
curiously  watching  their  ill-starred  comrade, 
14 


158  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

had  exchanged  glances  of  dismay  when  the 
knife  was  so  suddenly  produced.  Now  they 
bent  breathlessly  forward. 

The  silence  for  the  moment  was  oppressive. 

"  If  it's  the  knife  I  mane,"  he  sobbed  at  last, 
desperately,  miserably,  "  the  letters  are  S.  B.  W., 
and  it  belongs  to  Lieutenant  Waring  of  our 
bathery." 

But  no  questioning,  however  adroit,  could 
elicit  from  him  the  faintest  information  as  to 
how  it  got  there.  The  last  time  he  remembered 
seeing  it,  he  said,  was  on  Mr.  Waring's  table 
the  morning  of  the  review.  A  detective  testi 
fied  to  having  found  it  among  the  bushes  under 
the  window  as  the  water  receded.  Ferry  and 
the  miserable  Ananias  were  called,  and  they, 
too,  had  to  identify  the  knife,  and  admit  that 
neither  had  seen  it  about  the  room  since  Mr. 
"Waring  left  for  town.  Of  other  witnesses 
called,  came  first  the  proprietor  of  the  stable 
to  which  the  cab  belonged.  Horse  and  cab, 
he  said,  covered  with  mud,  were  found  under 
a  shed  two  blocks  below  the  French  Market, 
and  the  only  thing  in  the  cab  was  a  handsome 
silk  umbrella,  London  make,  which  Lieutenant 
Pierce  laid  claim  to.  Mrs.  Doyle  swore  that  aa 


WARING'S  PERIL.  159 

ehe  was  going  in  search  of  her  husband  she 
met  the  cab  just  below  the  Pelican,  driving  fu 
riously  away,  and  that  in  the  flash  of  lightning 
she  recognized  the  driver  as  the  man  whom 
Lieutenant  "Waring  had  beaten  that  morning  on 
the  levee  in  front  of  her  place.  A  stranger  was 
seated  beside  him.  There  were  two  gentlemen 
inside,  but  she  saw  the  face  of  only  one,— 
Lieutenant  Waring. 

Nobody  else  could  throw  any  light  on  the 
matter.  The  doctor,  recalled,  declared  the 
knife  or  dagger  was  shaped  exactly  as  would 
have  to  be  the  one  that  gave  the  death-blow. 
Everything  pointed  to  the  fact  that  there  had 
been  a  struggle,  a  deadly  encounter,  and  that 
after  the  fatal  work  was  done  the  murderer  or 
murderers  had  left  the  doors  locked  and  barred 
and  escaped  through  the  window,  leaving  the 
desk  rifled  and  carrying  away  what  money  there 
was,  possibly  to  convey  the  idea  that  it  was  only 
a  vulgar  murder  and  robbery,  after  all. 

Of  other  persons  who  might  throw  light  upon 
the  tragedy  the  following  were  missing:  Lieu 
tenant  Waring,  Private  Dawson,  the  cabman, 
and  the  unrecognized  stranger.  So,  too,  was 
Anatole's  boat 


160  WARIN&S  PERIL. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

WHEN  four  days  and  nights  had  passed  away 
without  a  word  or  sign  from  "Waring,  the  gar 
rison  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  those 
officers  or  men  of  Battery  "  X"  who  still  be 
lieved  him  innocent  were  idiots.  So  did  the 
civil  authorities ;  but  those  were  days  when  the 
authorities  of  Louisiana  commanded  less  respect 
from  its  educated  people  than  did  even  the 
military.  The  police  force,  like  the  State,  was 
undergoing  a  process  called  reconstruction, 
which  might  have  been  impressive  in  theory, 
but  was  ridiculous  in  practice.  A  reward  had 
been  offered  by  business  associates  of  the  de 
ceased  for  the  capture  and  conviction  of  the 
assassin.  A  distant  relative  of  old  Lascelles  had 
come  to  take  charge  of  the  place  until  Monsieur 
Philippe  should  arrive.  The  latter's  address 
had  been  found  among  old  Armand's  papers, 
and  despatches,  via  Havana,  had  been  sent  to 
him,  also  letters.  Pierre  d'Hervilly  had  taken 
the  weeping  widow  and  little  Nin  ISm  to  bonne 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  161 

maman's  to  stay.  Alphonse  and  his  woolly- 
pated  mother,  true  to  negro  superstitions,  had 
decamped.  Nothing  would  induce  them  to 
remain  under  the  roof  where  foul  murder  had 
been  done.  "  De  hahnts"  was  what  they  were 
afraid  of.  And  so  the  old  white  homestead, 
though  surrounded  on  every  side  by  curiosity- 
seekers  and  prying  eyes,  was  practically  deserted. 
Cram  went  about  his  duties  with  a  heavy  heart 
and  light  aid.  Ferry  and  Pierce  both  com 
manded  sections  now,  as  Doyle  remained  in 
close  arrest  and  "Pills  the  Less"  in  close  at 
tendance.  Something  was  utterly  wrong  with 
the  fellow.  Mrs.  Doyle  had  not  again  ventured 
to  show  her  red  nose  within  the  limits  of  the 
"barx,"  as  she  called  them,  a  hint  from  Braxton 
having  proved  sufficient ;  but  that  she  was  ever 
scouting  the  pickets  no  one  could  doubt.  Morn, 
noon,  and  night  she  prowled  about  the  neigh 
borhood,  employing  the  "  byes,"  so  she  termed 
such  stray  sheep  in  army  blue  as  a  dhrop  of 
Anatole's  best  would  tempt,  to  carry  scrawl 
ing  notes  to  Jim,  one  of  which,  fulling  with 
its  postman  by  the  wayside  and  turned  over 
by  the  guard  to  Captain  Cram  for  transmittal, 
was  addressed  to  Mister  Loot'nt  James  Doyle, 

I  14* 


162  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

Lite  Bothery  X,  Jaxun  Barx,  and  brought  the 
only  laughter  to  his  lips  the  big  horse-artillery 
man  had  known  for  nearly  a  week.  Her  cus 
tomary  Mercury,  Dawson,  had  vanished  from 
sight,  dropped,  with  many  another  and  often  a 
better  man,  as  a  deserter. 

Over  at  Waring's  abandoned  quarters  the 
shades  were  drawn  and  the  green  jalousies  bolted. 
Pierce  stole  in  each  day  to  see  that  everything, 
even  to  the  augmented  heap  of  letters,  was  un 
disturbed,  and  Ananias  drooped  in  the  court 
below  and  refused  to  be  comforted.  Cram  had 
duly  notified  Waring's  relatives,  now  living  in 
!N"ew  York,  of  his  strange  and  sudden  disap 
pearance,  but  made  no  mention  of  the  cloud 
of  suspicion  which  had  surrounded  his  name. 
Meantime,  some  legal  friends  of  the  family  were 
overhauling  the  Lascelles  papers,  and  a  dark- 
complexioned,  thick-set,  active  little  civilian  was 
making  frequent  trips  between  department  head 
quarters  and  barracks.  At  the  former  he  com 
pared  notes  with  Lieutenant  Reynolds,  and  at 
the  latter  with  Braxton  and  Cram.  The  last 
interview  Mr.  Allerton  had  before  leaving  with 
his  family  for  the  !N"orth  was  with  this  same 
lively  party,  the  detective  who  joined  them  that 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  163 

night  at  the  St.  Charles,  and  Allerton,  being  a 
man  of  much  substance,  had  tapped  his  pocket- 
book  significantly. 

"  The  difficulty  just  now  is  in  having  a  talk 
with  the  widow,"  said  this  official  to  Cram  and 
Reynolds,  whom  he  had  met  by  appointment 
on  the  Thursday  following  the  eventful  Satur 
day  of  Braxton's  "  combined"  review.  "  She  is 
too  much  prostrated.  I've  simply  got  to  wait 
awhile,  and  meantime  go  about  this  other  affair. 
Is  there  no  way  in  which  you  can  see  her  ?" 

Cram  relapsed  into  a  brown  study.  Reynolds 
was  poring  over  the  note  written  to  Braxton 
and  comparing  it  with  one  he  held  in  his  hand, 
— an  old  one,  and  one  that  told  an  old,  old  story. 
"  I  know  you'll  say  I  have  no  right  to  ask  this," 
it  read,  "but  you're  a  gentleman,  and  I'm  a 
friendless  woman  deserted  by  a  worthless  hus 
band.  My  own  people  are  ruined  by  the  war, 
but  even  if  they  had  money  they  wouldn't  send 
any  to  me,  for  I  offended  them  all  by  marrying 
a  Yankee  officer.  God  knows  I  am  punished 
enough  for  that.  But  I  was  so  young  and 
innocent  when  he  courted  me.  I  ought  to  of 
left — I  would  of  left  him  as  soon  as  I  found  out 
how  good-for-nothing  he  really  was,  only  I  was 


164  WARIXG'S  PERIL. 

BO  much  in  love  I  couldn't.  I  was  fastenated,  I 
suppose.  Now  I've  sold  everything,  but  if  you'll 
only  lend  me  fifty  dollars  I'll  work  my  fingers 
to  the  bone  until  I  pay  it.  For  the  old  home's 
sake,  please  do." 

"It's  the  same  hand, — the  same  woman, 
Cram,  beyond  a  doubt.  She  bled  Waring  for 
the  old  home's  sake  the  first  winter  he  was  in 
the  South.  He  told  me  all  about  it  two  years 
ago  in  "Washington,  when  we  heard  of  her  the 
second  time.  Now  she's  followed  him  over  here, 
or  got  here  first,  tried  the  same  game  probably, 
met  with  a  refusal,  and  this  anonymous  note  is 
her  revenge.  The  man  she  married  was  a 
crack-brained  weakling  who  got  into  the  army 
the  fag  end  of  the  war,  fell  in  love  with  her 
pretty  face,  married  her,  then  they  quarrelled, 
and  he  drank  himself  into  a  muddle-head.  She 
ran  him  into  debt;  then  he  gambled  away 
government  funds,  bolted,  was  caught,  and 
would  have  been  tried  and  sent  to  jail,  but  some 
powerful  relative  saved  him  that,  and  simply 
had  him  dropped; — never  heard  of  him  again. 
She  was  about  a  month  grass-widowed  when 
"Waring  came  on  his  first  duty  there.  He  had 
an  uncongenial  lot  of  brother  officers  for  a  two- 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  165 

company  post,  and  really  had  known  of  this  girl 
and  her  people  before  the  war,  and  she  appealed 
to  him,  first  for  sympathy  and  help,  then  charity, 
then  blackmail,  I  reckon,  from  which  his  fever 
saved  him.  Then  she  struck  some  quarter 
master  or  other  and  lived  off  him  for  a  while ; 
drifted  over  here,  and  no  sooner  did  he  arrive, 
all  ignorant  of  her  presence  in  or  around  New 
Orleans,  than  she  began  pestering  him  again. 
When  he  turned  a  deaf  ear,  she  probably  threat 
ened,  and  then  came  these  anonymous  missives 
to  you  and  Braxton.  Yours  always  came  by 
mail,  you  say.  The  odd  thing  about  the  colo 
nel's — this  one,  at  least — is  that  it  was  with  his 
mail,  but  never  came  through  the  post-office." 

"That's  all  very  interesting,"  said  the  little 
civilian,  dryly,  "  but  what  we  want  is  evidence 
to  acquit  him  and  convict  somebody  else  of  Las- 
celles's  death.  What  has  this  to  do  with  the 
other?" 

"  This  much :  This  letter  came  to  Braxton  by 
hand,  not  by  mail, — by  hand,  probably  direct 
from  her.  What  hand  had  access  to  the  office 
the  day  when  the  whole  command  was  out  at 
review?  Certainly  no  outsider.  The  mail  is 
opened  and  distributed  on  its  arrival  at  nine 


166  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

o'clock  by  the  chief  clerk,  or  by  the  sergeant- 
major,  if  he  happens  to  be  there,  though  he's 
generally  at  guard  mount.  On  this  occasion  he 
was  out  at  review.  Leary,  chief  clerk,  tells 
Colonel  Braxton  he  opened  and  distributed  the 
mail,  putting  the  colonel's  on  his  desk;  Root 
was  with  him  and  helped.  The  third  clerk 
came  in  later ;  had  been  out  all  night,  drinking. 
His  name  is  Dawson.  Dawson  goes  out  again 
and  gets  fuller,  and  when  next  brought  home  ia 
put  in  hospital  under  a  sentry.  Then  he  hears 
of  the  murder,  bolts,  and  isn't  heard  from  since, 
except  as  the  man  who  helped  Mrs.  Doyle  to 
get  her  husband  home.  He  is  the  fellow  who 
brought  that  note.  He  knew  something  of  its 
contents,  for  the  murder  terrified  him,  and  he 
ran  away.  Find  his  trail,  and  you  strike  that 
of  the  woman  who  wrote  these." 

"By  the  Lord,  lieutenant,  if  you'll  quit  the 
army  and  take  my  place  you'll  make  a  name 
and  a  fortune." 

"  And  if  you'll  quit  your  place  and  take  mine 
you'll  get  your  coup  de  grtice  in  some  picayune 
Indian  fight  and  be  forgotten.  So  stay  where 
you  are;  but  find  Dawson,  find  her,  find  what 
they  know,  and  you'll  be  famous." 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  167 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THAT  night,  or  very  early  next  morning,  there 
was  pandemonium  at  the  barracks.  It  was 
clear,  still,  beautiful.  A  soft  April  wind  was 
drifting  up  from  the  lower  coast,  laden  with  the 
perfume  of  sweet  olive  and  orange  blossoms. 
Mrs.  Cram,  with  one  or  two  lady  friends  and  a 
party  of  officers,  had  been  chatting  in  low  tone 
upon  their  gallery  until  after  eleven,  but  else 
where  about  the  moonlit  quadrangle  all  was 
silence  when  the  second  relief  was  posted.  Far 
at  the  rear  of  the  walled  enclosure,  where,  in 
deference  to  the  manners  and  customs  of  war  as 
observed  in  the  good  old  days  whereof  our  se 
niors  tell,  the  sutler's  establishment  was  planted 
within  easy  nailing-distance  of  the  guard-house, 
there  was  still  the  sound  of  modified  revelry 
by  night,  and  poker  and  whiskey  punch  had 
gathered  their  devotees  in  the  grimy  parlors  of 
Mr.  Finkbein,  and  here  the  belated  ones  tarried 
until  long  after  midnight,  as  most  of  them  were 


168  WARING'S  PERIL. 

bachelors  and  had  no  better  halves,  as  had 
Doyle,  to  fetch  them  home  "out  of  the  wet." 
Cram  and  his  lieutenants,  with  the  exception 
of  Doyle,  were  never  known  to  patronize  this 
establishment,  whatsoever  they  might  do  out- 
Bide.  They  had  separated  before  midnight,  and 
little  Pierce,  after  his  customary  peep  into  Wa- 
ring's  preserves,  had  closed  the  door,  gone  to 
his  own  room,  to  bed  and  to  sleep.  Ferry,  as 
battery  officer  of  the  day,  had  made  the  rounds 
of  the  stables  and  gun-shed  about  one  o'clock, 
and  had  encountered  Captain  Kinsey,  of  the 
infantry,  coming  in  from  his  long  tramp  through 
the  dew-wet  field,  returning  from  the  inspection 
of  the  sentry-post  at  the  big  magazine. 

"  No  news  of  poor  Sam  yet,  I  suppose  ?"  said 
Kinsey,  sadly,  as  the  two  came  strolling  in  to 
gether  through  the  rear  gate. 

"Nothing  whatever,"  was  Ferry's  answer. 
"  We  cannot  even  form  a  conjecture,  unless  he, 
too,  has  been  murdered.  Think  of  there  being 
a  warrant  out  for  his  arrest, — for  him,  Sam 
"Waring!" 

"Well,"  said  Kinsey,  "no  other  conclusion 
could  be  well  arrived  at,  unless  that  poor  brute 
Doyle  did  it  in  a  drunken  row.  Pills  says  he 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  169 

never  saw  a  man  so  terror-stricken  as  he  seems 
to  be.  He's  afraid  to  leave  him,  really,  and 
Doyle's  afraid  to  be  alone, — thinks  the  old 
woman  may  get  in." 

"  She  has  no  excuse  for  coming,  captain," 
said  Ferry.  "  When  she  told  Cram  she  must 
see  her  husband  to-day,  that  she  was  out  of 
money  and  starving,  the  captain  surprised  her 
by  handing  her  fifty  dollars,  which  is  much 
more  than  she'd  have  got  from  Doyle.  She 
took  it,  of  course,  but  that  isn't  what  she 
wanted.  She  wants  to  get  at  him.  She  has 
money  enough." 

"Yes,  that  woman's  a  terror,  Ferry.  Old 
Mrs.  Murtagh,  wife  of  my  quartermaster  ser 
geant,  has  been  in  the  army  twenty  years,  and 
says  she  knew  her  well, — knew  all  her  people. 
She  comes  from  a  tough  lot,  and  they  had  a  bad 
reputation  in  Texas  in  the  old  days.  Doyle's  a 
totally  different  man  since  she  turned  up,  Cram 
tells  me.  Hello !  here's  <  Pills  the  Less,' "  he 
suddenly  exclaimed,  as  they  came  opposite  the 
west  gate,  leading  to  the  hospital.  "  How's  your 
patient,  Doc  ?" 

"  Well,  he's  sleeping  at  last.  He  seems  worn 
out.  It's  the  first  time  I've  left  him,  but  I'm 

H  15 


170  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

used  up  and  want  a  few  hours'  sleep.  There 
isn't  anything  to  drink  in  the  room,  even  if  he 
should  wake,  and  Jim  is  sleeping  or  lying  there 
by  him." 

"  Oh,  he'll  do  all  right  now,  I  reckon,"  said 
the  officer  of  the  day,  cheerfully.  "  Go  and  get 
your  sleep.  The  old  woman  can't  get  at  him 
unless  she  bribes  my  sentries  or  rides  the  air  on 
a  broomstick,  like  some  other  old  witches  I've 
read  of.  Ferry  sleeps  in  the  adjoining  room, 
anyhow,  so  he  can  look  out  for  her.  Good 
night,  Doc."  And  so,  on  they  went,  glancing 
upward  at  the  dim  light  just  showing  through 
the  window-blinds  in  the  gable  end  of  Doyle's 
quarters,  and  halting  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Come  over  and  have  a  pipe  with  me,  Ferry," 
said  the  captain.  "  It's  too  beautiful  a  night  to 
turn  in.  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  Waring, 
anyhow.  This  thing  weighs  on  my  mind." 

"  Done  with  you,  for  an  hour,  anyhow !"  said 
Ferry.  "Just  wait  a  minute  till  I  run  up  and 
get  my  baccy." 

Presently  down  came  the  young  fellow  again, 
meerschaum  in  hand,  the  moonlight  glinting  on 
his  slender  figure,  so  trim  and  jaunty  in  the 
battery  dress.  Kinsey  looked  him  over  with  a 


WARINO'S  PERIL.  171 

emile  of  soldierly  approval  and  a  whimsical  com 
ment  on  the  contrast  between  the  appearance  of 
this  young  artillery  sprig  and  that  of  his  own 
stout  personality,  clad  as  he  was  in  a  bulging 
blue  flannel  sack-coat,  only  distinguishable  in  cut 
and  style  from  civilian  garb  by  its  having  brass 
buttons  and  a  pair  of  tarnished  old  shoulder- 
straps.  Ferry  was  a  swell.  His  shell  jacket 
fitted  like  wax.  The  Russian  shoulder-knots 
of  twisted  gold  were  of  the  handsomest  make. 
The  riding-breeches,  top-boots,  and  spurs  were 
such  that  even  Waring  could  not  criticise.  His 
sabre  gleamed  in  the  moonbeams,  and  Kinsey's 
old  leather-covered  sword  looked  dingy  by  con 
trast.  His  belt  fitted  trim  and  taut,  and  was 
polished  as  his  boot-tops;  Kinsey's  sank  down 
over  the  left  hip,  and  was  worn  brown.  The 
sash  Ferry  sported  as  battery  officer  of  the  day 
was  draped,  West  Point  fashion,  over  the  shoul 
der  and  around  the  waist,  and  accurately  knotted 
and  looped ;  Kinsey's  old  war-worn  crimson  net 
was  slung  higgledy-piggledy  over  his  broad 
chest. 

"What  swells  you  fellows  are,  Ferry!"  he 
said,  laughingly,  as  the  youngster  came  dancing 
down.  "Even  old  Doyle  gets  out  here  in  his 


172  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

scarlet  plume  occasionally  and  puts  us  dough 
boys  to  shame.  "What's  the  use  in  trying  to 
make  such  a  rig  as  ours  look  soldierly?  If  it 
were  not  for  the  brass  buttons  our  coats  would 
make  us  look  like  parsons  and  our  hats  like 
monkeys.  As  for  this  undress,  all  that  can  be 
said  in  its  favor  is,  you  can't  spoil  it  even  by 
sleeping  out  on  the  levee  in  it,  as  I  am  some 
times  tempted  to  do.  Let's  go  out  there  now." 

It  was  perhaps  quarter  of  two  when  they  took 
their  seats  on  the  wooden  bench  under  the  trees, 
and,  lighting  their  pipes,  gazed  out  over  the 
broad  sweeping  flood  of  the  Mississippi,  gleam 
ing  like  a  silvered  shield  in  the  moonlight. 
Far  across  at  the  opposite  shore  the  low  line  of 
orange-groves  and  plantation  houses  and  quar 
ters  was  merged  in  one  long  streak  of  gloom, 
relieved  only  at  intervals  by  twinkling  light. 
Farther  up-stream,  like  dozing  sea-dogs,  the 
fleet  of  monitors  lay  moored  along  the  bank, 
with  the  masts  and  roofs  of  Algiers  dimly  out 
lined  against  the  crescent  sweep  of  lights  that 
marked  the  levee  of  the  great  Southern  metrop 
olis,  still  prostrate  from  the  savage  buffeting  of 
the  war,  yet  so  soon  to  rouse  from  lethargy,  re- 
Bume  her  sway,  and,  stretching  forth  her  arms, 


WARIXG'S  PERIL.  173 

to  draw  once  again  to  her  bosom  the  wealth  and 
tribute,  tenfold  augmented,  of  the  very  heart  of 
the  nation,  until,  mistress  of  the  commerce  of  a 
score  of  States,  she  should  rival  even  New  York 
in  the  volume  of  her  trade.  Below  them,  away 
to  the  east  towards  English  Turn,  rolled  the 
tawny  flood,  each  ripple  and  eddy  and  swirling 
pool  crested  with  silver, — the  twinkling  lights 
at  Chalmette  barely  distinguishable  from  dim, 
low-hanging  stars.  Midway  the  black  hulk  of 
some  big  ocean  voyager  was  forging  slowly, 
steadily  towards  them,  the  red  light  of  the  port 
side  already  obscured,  the  white  and  green 
growing  with  every  minute  more  and  more  dis 
tinct,  and,  save  the  faint  rustle  of  the  leaves 
overhead,  murmuring  under  the  touch  of  the 
soft,  southerly  night  wind,  the  plash  of  wavelet 
against  the  wooden  pier,  and  the  measured  foot 
fall  of  the  sentry  on  the  flagstone  walk  in  front 
of  the  sally-port,  not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard. 

For  a  while  they  smoked  in  silence,  enjoying 
the  beauty  of  the  night,  though  each  was  think 
ing  only  of  the  storm  that  swept  over  the  scene 
the  Sunday  previous  and  of  the  tragedy  that 
was  borne  upon  its  wings.  At  last  Kinsey 
shook  himself  together. 
15* 


174  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

"Ferry,  sometimes  I  come  out  here  for  a 
quiet  smoke  and  think.  Did  it  ever  occur  to 
you  what  a  fearful  force,  what  illimitable  power, 
there  is  sweeping  by  us  here  night  after  night 
with  never  a  sound  ?" 

"  Oh,  you  mean  the  Mississip,"  said  Ferry, 
flippantly.  "  It  would  be  a  case  of  mops  and 
brooms,  I  fancy,  if  she  were  to  bust  through  the 
bank  and  sweep  us  out  into  the  swamps." 

"  Exactly !  that's  in  case  she  broke  loose,  as 
you  say;  but  even  when  in  the  shafts,  as  she  is 
now,  between  the  levees,  how  long  would  it  take 
her  to  sweep  a  fellow  from  here  out  into  the 
gulf,  providing  nothing  interposed  to  stop  him  ?" 

"  Matter  of  simple  mathematical  calculation," 
said  Ferry,  practically.  "  They  say  it's  an  eight- 
mile  current  easy  out  there  in  the  middle  where 
she's  booming.  Look  at  that  barrel  scooting 
down  yonder.  Now,  I'd  lay  a  fiver  I  could  cut 
loose  from  here  at  reveille  and  shoot  the  passes 
before  taps  and  never  pull  a  stroke.  It's  less 
than  eighty  miles  down  to  the  forts." 

"Well,  then,  a  skiff  like  that  that  old 
Anatole's  blaspheming  about  losing  wouldn't 
take  very  long  to  ride  over  that  route,  would 
it  ?"  said  Kinsey,  reflectively. 


WARING 'S  PERIL.  175 

"  Xo,  not  if  allowed  to  slide.  But  somebody'd 
be  sure  to  put  out  and  haul  it  in  as  a  prize, 
— flotsam  and  what-you-may-call-'em.  You  see 
these  old  niggers  all  along  here  with  their  skiffs 
tacking  on  to  every  hit  of  drift-wood  that's 
worth  having." 

"But,  Ferry,  do  you  think  they'd  venture 
out  in  such  a  storm  as  Sunday  last? — think 
anything  could  live  in  it  short  of  a  decked 
ship?" 

"  Ko,  probably  not.  Certainly  not  Anatole's 
boat." 

"Well,  that's  just  what  I'm  afraid  of,  and 
what  Cram  and  Reynolds  dread." 

"  Do  they  ?  Well,  so  far  as  that  storm's  con 
cerned,  it  would  have  blown  it  down-stream 
until  it  came  to  the  big  bend  below  here  to  the 
east.  Then,  by  rights,  it  ought  to  have  blown 
against  the  left  bank.  But  every  inch  of  it  has 
been  scouted  all  the  way  to  quarantine.  The 
whole  river  was  filled  with  drift,  though,  and  it 
might  have  been  wedged  in  a  lot  of  logs  and 
swept  out  anyhow.  Splendid  ship,  that !  Who 
is  she,  do  you  suppose  ?" 

The  great  black  hull  with  its  lofty  tracery  of 
masts  and  spars  was  now  just  about  opposite  the 


176  WARING1  S  PERIL 

barracks,  slowly  and  majestically  ascending  the 
stream. 

"  One  of  those  big  British  freight  steamers 
that  moor  there  below  the  French  Market,  I 
reckon.  They  seldom  come  up  at  night  unless 
it's  in  the  full  of  the  moon,  and  even  then  they 
move  with  the  utmost  caution.  See,  she's  slow 
ing  up  now." 

"  Hello !  Listen  !  What's  that  ?"  exclaimed 
Ferry,  starting  to  his  feet. 

A  distant,  muffled  cry.  A  distant  shot.  The 
sentry  at  the  sally-port  dashed  through  the 
echoing  vault,  then  bang!  came  the  loud  roar 
of  his  piece,  followed  by  the  yell  of — 

"Fire!  fire!     The  guard  !" 

"With  one  spring  Ferry  was  down  the  levee 
and  darted  like  a  deer  across  the  road,  Kinsey 
lumbering  heavily  after.  Even  as  he  sped 
through  the  stone-flagged  way,  the  hoarse  roar 
of  the  drum  at  the  guard-house,  followed  in 
stantly  by  the  blare  of  the  bugle  from  the  bat 
tery  quarters,  sounded  the  stirring  alarm.  A 
shrill,  agonized  female  voice  was  madly  scream 
ing  for  help.  Guards  and  sentries  were  rushing 
to  the  scene,  and  flames  were  bursting  from  the 
front  window  of  Doyle's  quarters.  Swift  though 


WARIXG'S  PERIL.  177 

Ferry  ran,  others  were  closer  to  the  spot.  Half 
a  dozen  active  young  soldiers,  members  of  the 
infantry  guard,  had  sprung  to  the  rescue. 
When  Ferry  dashed  up  to  the  gallery  he  was 
just  in  time  to  stumble  over  a  writhing  and 
prostrate  form,  to  help  extinguish  the  blazing 
clothing  of  another,  to  seize  his  water-bucket 
and  douse  its  contents  over  a  third, — one  yell 
ing,  the  others  stupefied  by  smoke — or  some 
thing.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it, 
daring  fellows  had  ripped  down  the  blazing 
shades  and  shutters,  tossed  them  to  the  parade 
beneath,  dumped  a  heap  of  soaked  and  smoking 
bedding  out  of  the  rear  windows,  splashed  a 
few  bucketfuls  of  water  about  the  reeking  room, 
and  the  fire  was  out.  But  the  doctors  were 
working  their  best  to  bring  back  the  spark  of 
life  to  two  senseless  forms,  and  to  still  the 
shrieks  of  agony  that  burst  from  the  seared 
and  blistered  lips  of  Bridget  Doyle. 

"While  willing  hands  bore  these  scorched  sem 
blances  of  humanity  to  neighboring  rooms  and 
tei\der-hearted  women  hurried  to  add  their  min 
istering  touch,  and  old  Braxton  ordered  the  ex 
cited  garrison  back  to  quarters  and  bed,  he,  with 
Cram  and  Kinsey  and  Ferry,  made  prompt  ex- 
m 


178  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

animation  of  the  premises.  On  the  table  two 
whiskey-bottles,  one  empty,  one  nearly  full,  that 
Dr.  Potts  declared  were  not  there  when  he  left 
at  one.  On  the  mantel  a  phial  of  chloroform, 
which  was  also  not  there  before.  But  a  towel 
soaked  with  the  stifling  contents  lay  on  the  floor 
by  Jim's  rude  pallet,  and  a  handkerchief  half 
soaked,  half  consumed,  was  on  the  chair  which 
had  stood  by  the  bedside,  among  the  fragments 
of  an  overturned  kerosene  lamp. 

A  quick  examination  of  the  patients  showed 
that  Jim,  the  negro,  had  been  chloroformed  and 
was  not  burned  at  all,  that  Doyle  was  severely 
burned  and  had  probably  inhaled  flames,  and 
that  the  woman  was  crazed  with  drink,  terror, 
and  burns  combined.  It  took  the  efforts  of  two 
or  three  men  and  the  influence  of  powerful 
opiates  to  quiet  her.  Taxed  with  negligence  or 
complicity  on  the  part  of  the  sentry,  the  ser 
geant  of  the  guard  repudiated  the  idea,  and 
assured  Colonel  Braxton  that  it  was  an  easy 
matter  for  any  one  to  get  either  in  or  out  of  the 
garrison  without  encountering  the  sentry,  and, 
taking  his  lantern,  led  the  way  out  to  the  hos 
pital  grounds  by  a  winding  foot-path  among  the 
trees  to  a  point  in  the  high  white  picket  fence 


WARIN&S   PERIL.  179 

where  two  slats  had  been  shoved  aside.  Any 
one  coming  along  the  street  without  could  pass 
far  beyond  the  ken  of  the  sentry  at  the  west  gate, 
and  slip  in  with  the  utmost  ease,  and  once  in 
side,  all  that  was  necessary  was  to  dodge  possible 
reliefs  and  patrols.  No  sentry  was  posted  at  the 
gate  through  the  wall  that  separated  the  gar 
rison  proper  from  the  hospital  grounds.  Asked 
why  he  had  not  reported  this,  the  sergeant 
smiled  and  said  there  were  a  dozen  others  just 
as  convenient,  so  what  was  the  use?  He  did 
not  say,  however,  that  he  and  his  fellows  had 
recourse  to  them  night  after  night. 

It  was  three  o'clock  when  the  officers'  families 
fairly  got  settled  down  again  and  back  to  their 
beds,  and  the  silence  of  night  once  more  reigned 
over  Jackson  Barracks.  One  would  suppose 
that  such  a  scene  of  terror  and  excitement  was 
enough,  and  that  now  the  trembling,  frightened 
women  might  be  allowed  to  sleep  in  peace ;  but 
it  was  not  to  be.  Hardly  had  one  of  their  num 
ber  closed  her  eyes,  hardly  had  all  the  flicker 
ing  lights,  save  those  at  the  hospital  and  guard 
house,  been  downed  again,  when  the  strained 
nerves  of  the  occupants  of  the  officers'  quad 
rangle  were  jumped  into  mad  jangling  once 


180  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

more  and  all  the  barracks  aroused  a  secoud 
time,  and  this,  too,  by  a  woman's  shriek  of 
horror. 

Mrs.  Conroy,  a  delicate,  fragile  little  body, 
wife  of  a  junior  lieutenant  of  infantry  occupy 
ing  a  set  of  quarters  in  the  same  building  with, 
but  at  the  opposite  end  from,  Pierce  and  "Wa 
ring,  was  found  lying  senseless  at  the  head  of 
the  gallery  stairs. 

When  revived,  amid  tears  and  tremblings  and 
incoherent  exclamations  she  declared  that  she 
had  gone  down  to  the  big  ice-chest  on  the 
ground-floor  to  get  some  milk  for  her  nervous 
and  frightened  child  and  was  hurrying  noise 
lessly  up  the  stairs  again, — the  only  means  of 
communication  between  the  first  and  second 
floors, — when,  face  to  face,  in  front  of  his  door, 
she  came  upon  Mr.  Waring,  or  his  ghost ;  that 
his  eyes  were  fixed  and  glassy;  that  he  did  not 
seem  to  see  her  even  when  he  spoke,  for  speak 
he  did.  His  voice  sounded  like  a  moan  of  an 
guish,  she  said,  but  the  words  were  distinct: 
"Where  is  my  knife?  Who  has  taken  my 
knife?" 

And  then  little  Pierce,  who  had  helped  to 
raise  and  carry  the  stricken  woman  to  her  room, 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  181 

suddenly  darted  out  on  the  gallery  and  ran 
along  to  the  door  he  had  closed  four  hours 
earlier.  It  was  open.  Striking  a  match,  he 
hurried  through  into  the  chamber  beyond,  and 
there,  face  downward  upon  the  bed,  lay  his 
friend  and  comrade  Waring,  moaning  like  one 
in  the  delirium  of  fever. 


182  WARINQ'S  PERIL. 


CHAPTER   X. 

LIEUTENANT  REYNOLDS  was  seated  at  his  desk 
at  department  head-quarters  about  nine  o'clock 
that  morning  when  an  orderly  in  light-battery 
dress  dismounted  at  the  banquette  and  came  up 
the  stairs  three  at  a  jump.  "  Captain  Cram's 
compliments,  sir,  and  this  is  immediate,"  he  re 
ported,  as  he  held  forth  a  note.  Reynolds  tore 
it  open,  read  it  hastily  through,  then  said,  "Go 
and  fetch  me  a  cab  quick  as  you  can,"  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  general's  room.  Half  an  hour 
later  he  was  spinning  down  the  levee  towards 
the  French  Market,  and  before  ten  o'clock  was 
seated  in  the  captain's  cabin  of  the  big  British 
steamer  Ambassador,  which  had  arrived  at  her 
moorings  during  the  night.  Cram  and  Kinsey 
were  already  there,  and  to  them  the  skipper  was 
telling  his  story. 

Off  the  Tortugas,  just  about  as  they  had 
shaped  their  course  for  the  Belize,  they  were 
hailed  by  the  little  steamer  Tampa,  bound  from 


WARIN& S  PERIL.  183 

New  Orleans  to  Havana.  The  sea  was  calm, 
and  a  boat  put  off  from  the  Tampa  and  came 
alongside,  and  presently  a  gentleman  was  as 
sisted  aboard.  He  seemed  weak  from  illness, 
but  explained  that  he  was  Lieutenant  Waring, 
of  the  United  States  Artillery,  had  been  acci 
dentally  carried  off  to  sea,  and  the  Ambassador 
was  the  first  inward-bound  ship  they  had  sighted 
since  crossing  the  bar.  He  would  be  most 
thankful  for  a  passage  back  to  NQW  Orleans. 
Captain  Baird  had  welcomed  him  with  the 
heartiness  of  the  British  tar,  and  made  him  at 
home  in  his  cabin.  The  lieutenant  was  evi 
dently  far  from  well,  and  seemed  somewhat 
dazed  and  mentally  distressed.  He  could  give 
no  account  of  his  mishap  other  than  that  told 
him  by  the  officers  of  the  Tampa,  which  had 
lain  to  when  overtaken  by  the  gale  on  Satur 
day  night,  and  on  Sunday  morning  when  they 
resumed  their  course  down-stream  they  over 
hauled  a  light  skiff  and  were  surprised  to  find 
a  man  aboard,  drenched  and  senseless.  "  The 
left  side  of  his  face  was  badly  bruised  and  dis 
colored,  even  when  he  came  to  us,"  said  Baird, 
"  and  he  must  have  been  slugged  and  robbed,  for 
his  watch,  his  seal-ring,  and  what  little  money 


184  WARING 'S  PERIL. 

he  had  were  all  gone."  The  second  officer  of 
the  Tampa  had  fitted  him  out  with  a  clean  shirt, 
and  the  steward  dried  his  clothing  as  best  he 
could,  but  the  coat  was  stained  and  clotted  with 
blood.  Mr.  Waring  had  slept  heavily  much  of 
the  way  back  until  they  passed  Pilot  Town. 
Then  he  was  up  and  dressed  Thursday  after 
noon,  and  seemingly  in  better  spirits,  when  he 
picked  up  a  copy  of  the  New  Orleans  Picayune 
which  the  pilot  had  left  aboard,  and  was  reading 
that,  when  suddenly  he  started  to  his  feet  with 
an  exclamation  of  amaze,  and,  when  the  captain 
turned  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  Waring  was 
ghastly  pale  and  fearfully  excited  by  something 
he  had  read.  He  hid  the  paper  under  his  coat 
and  sprang  up  on  deck  and  paced  nervously  to 
and  fro  for  hours,  and  began  to  grow  so  ill, 
apparently,  that  Captain  Baird  was  much  wor 
ried.  At  night  he  begged  to  be  put  ashore  at 
the  barracks  instead  of  going  on  up  to  town, 
and  Baird  had  become  so  troubled  about  him 
that  he  sent  his  second  officer  in  the  gig  with 
him,  landed  him  on  the  levee  opposite  the  sally 
port,  and  there,  thanking  them  heartily,  but  de 
clining  further  assistance,  Waring  had  hurried 
through  the  entrance  into  the  barrack  square. 


WARING <S  PERIL.  185 

Mr.  Royce,  the  second  officer,  said  there  was 
considerable  excitement,  beating  of  drums  and 
sounding  of  bugles,  at  the  post,  as  they  rowed 
towards  the  shore.  He  did  not  learn  the  cause. 
Captain  Baird  was  most  anxious  to  learn  if 
the  gentleman  had  safely  reached  his  destina 
tion.  Cram  replied  that  he  had,  but  in  a  state 
bordering  on  delirium  and  unable  to  give  any 
coherent  account  of  himself.  He  could  tell  he 
had  been  aboard  the  Ambassador  and  the 
Tampa,  but  that  was  about  all. 

And  then  they  told  Baird  that  what  Waring 
probably  saw  was  Wednesday's  paper  with  the 
details  of  the  inquest  on  the  body  of  Lascelles 
and  the  chain  of  evidence  pointing  to  himself 
as  the  murderer.  This  caused  honest  Captain 
Baird  to  lay  ten  to  one  he  wasn't,  and  five 
to  one  he'd  never  heard  of  it  till  he  got  the 
paper  above  Pilot  Town.  WTiereupon  all  three 
officers  clapped  the  Briton  on  the  back  and 
shook  him  by  the  hand  and  begged  his  com 
pany  to  dinner  at  the  barracks  and  at  Moreau's ; 
and  then,  while  Reynolds  sped  to  the  police- 
office  and  Kinsey  back  to  Colonel  Braxton, 
whom  he  represented  at  the  interview,  Cram  re 
mounted,  and,  followed  by  the  faithful  Jeffers, 

16* 


186  WARING'S  PERIL. 

trotted  up  Kampart  Street  and  sent  in  his  card 
to  Madame  Lascelles,  and  Madame's  maid 
brought  back  reply  that  she  was  still  too  shocked 
and  stricken  to  receive  visitors.  So  also  did 
Madame  d'Hervilly  deny  herself,  and  Cram  rode 
home  to  Nell. 

"It  is  useless,"  he  said.  "She  will  not  see 
me." 

"  Then  she  shall  see  me,"  said  Mrs.  Cram. 

And  so  a  second  time  did  Jeffers  make  the 
trip  to  town  that  day,  this  time  perched  with 
folded  arms  in  the  rumble  of  the  pony-phaeton. 

And  while  she  was  gone,  the  junior  doctor 
was  having  the  liveliest  experience  of  his  few 
years  of  service.  Scorched  and  burned  though 
she  was,  Mrs.  Doyle's  faculties  seemed  to  have 
returned  with  renewed  acuteness  and  force. 
She  demanded  to  be  taken  to  her  husband's  side, 
but  the  doctor  sternly  refused.  She  demanded 
to  be  told  his  condition,  and  was  informed  that 
it  was  so  critical  he  must  not  be  disturbed, 
especially  by  her,  who  was  practically  respon 
sible  for  all  his  trouble.  Then  she  insisted  on 
knowing  whether  he  was  conscious  and  whether 
he  had  asked  for  a  priest,  and  when  informed 
that  Father  Foley  had  already  arrived,  it  re- 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  187 

quired  the  strength  of  four  men  to  hold  her. 
She  raved  like  a  maniac,  and  her  screams 
appalled  the  garrison.  But  screams  and  strug 
gles  were  all  in  vain.  "  Pills  the  Less"  sent  for 
his  senior,  and  "  Pills  the  Pitiless"  more  than 
ever  deserved  his  name.  He  sent  for  a  strait- 
jacket,  saw  her  securely  stowed  away  in  that 
and  borne  over  to  a  vacant  room  in  the  old  hos 
pital,  set  the  steward's  wife  on  watch  and  a  sen 
try  at  the  door,  went  back  to  Waring's  bedside, 
where  Sam  lay  tossing  in  burning  fever,  mur 
mured  his  few  words  of  caution  to  Pierce  and 
Ferry,  then  hastened  back  to  where  poor  Doyle 
was  gasping  in  agony  of  mind  and  body,  cling 
ing  to  the  hand  of  the  gentle  soldier  of  the  cross, 
gazing  piteously  into  his  father  confessor's  eyes, 
drinking  in  his  words  of  exhortation,  yet  unable 
to  make  articulate  reply.  The  flames  had  done 
their  cruel  work.  Only  in  desperate  pain  could 
he  speak  again. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  Mrs.  Cram  came 
driving  back  to  barracks,  bringing  Mr.  Rey 
nolds  with  her.  Her  eyes  were  dilated,  her 
cheeks  fluohed  with  excitement,  as  she  sprang 
from  the  low  phaeton,  and,  with  a  murmured 
"  Come  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can"  to  her  hus- 


188  WARING'S  PERIL. 

band,  she  sped  away  up  the  stairs,  leaving  him 
to  receive  and  entertain  her  passenger. 

"  I,  too,  went  to  see  Madame  Lascelles  late 
this  afternoon,"  said  Reynolds.  "I  wished  to 
show  her  this." 

It  was  a  copy  of  a  despatch  to  the  chief  of 
police  of  New  Orleans.  It  stated  in  effect  that 
Philippe  Lascelles  had  not  been  seen  or  heard 
of  around  Key  "West  for  over  two  weeks.  It 
was  believed  that  he  had  gone  to  Havana. 

"  Can  you  get  word  of  this  to  our  friend  the 
detective  ?"  asked  Cram. 

"I  have  wired  already.  He  has  gone  to 
Georgia.  What  I  hoped  to  do  was  to  note  the 
effect  of  this  on  Madame  Lascelles ;  but  she  was 
too  ill  to  see  me.  Luckily,  Mrs.  Cram  was  there, 
and  I  sent  it  up  to  her.  She  will  tell  you.  Now 
I  have  to  see  Braxton." 

And  then  came  a  messenger  to  ask  Cram  to 
join  the  doctor  at  Doyle's  quarters  at  once :  so 
he  scurried  up-stairs  to  see  Nell  first  and  learn 
her  tidings. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  ?"  she  exclaimed,  as  he 
entered  the  parlor.  "Philippe  Lascelles  was 
here  that  very  night,  and  had  been  seen  with  his 
brother  at  the  office  on  Royal  Street  twice  before 


WARING' S  PERIL.  189 

this  thing  happened,  and  they  had  trouble  about 
money.  Oh,  I  made  her  understand.  I  ap 
pealed  to  her  as  a  woman  to  do  what  she  could 
to  right  Mr.  Waring,  who  was  so  generally  be 
lieved  to  be  the  guilty  man.  I  told  her  we  had 
detectives  tracing  Philippe  and  would  soon  find 
how  and  when  he  reached  Jtfew  Orleans.  Finally 
I  showed  her  the  despatch  that  Mr.  Reynolds 
sent  up,  and  at  last  she  broke  down,  burst  into 
tears,  and  said  she,  too,  had  learned  since  the 
inquest  that  Philippe  was  with  her  husband,  and 
probably  was  the  stranger  referred  to,  that  awful 
night.  She  even  suspected  it  at  the  time,  for 
she  knew  he  came  not  to  borrow  but  to  demand 
money  that  was  rightfully  his,  and  also  certain 
papers  that  Armand  held  and  that  now  were 
gone.  It  was  she  who  told  me  of  Philippe's 
having  been  seen  with  Armand  at  the  office,  but 
ehe  declared  she  could  not  believe  that  he  would 
kill  her  husband.  I  pointed  out  the  fact  that 
Armand  had  fired  two  shots  from  his  pistol, 
apparently,  and  that  no  bullet-marks  had  been 
found  in  the  room  where  the  quarrel  took  place, 
and  that  if  his  shots  had  taken  effect  on  his 
antagonist  he  simply  could  not  have  been  "Wa 
ring,  for  though  Waring  had  been  bruised  and 


190  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

beaten  about  the  bead,  tbe  doctor  said  tbere  was 
no  sign  of  bullet-mark  about  him  anywhere. 
She  recognized  the  truth  of  this,  but  still  she 
said  she  believed  that  there  was  a  quarrel  or  was 
to  be  a  quarrel  between  her  husband  and  Mr. 
"Waring.  Otherwise  I  believe  her  throughout 
I  believe  that,  no  matter  what  romance  there 
was  about  her  nursing  Philippe  and  his  falling 
in  love  with  her,  she  did  not  encourage  him,  did 
not  call  him  here  again,  was  true  to  her  old 
husband.  She  is  simply  possessed  with  the  idea 
that  the  quarrel  which  killed  her  husband  was 
between  himself  and  Mr.  Waring,  and  that  it 
occurred  after  Philippe  had  got  his  money  and 
papers,  and  gone." 

"W-e-e-11,  Philippe  will  have  a  heap  to  ex 
plain  when  he  is  found,"  was  Cram's  reply. 
"  Now  I  have  to  go  to  Doyle's.  He  is  making 
some  confession,  I  expect,  to  the  priest." 

But  Cram  never  dreamed  for  an  instant  what 
that  was  to  be. 

That  night  poor  Doyle's  spirit  took  its  flight, 
and  the  story  of  misery  he  had  to  tell,  partly 
by  scrawling  with  a  pencil,  partly  by  gesture 
in  reply  to  question,  partly  in  painfully-gasped 
sentences,  a  few  words  at  a  time,  was  practically 


WARINO'S  PERIL.  191 

this.  Lascelles  and  his  party  did  indeed  leave 
him  at  the  Pelican  when  he  was  so  drunk  he 
only  vaguely  knew  what  was  going  on  or  what 
had  happened  in  the  bar-room  where  they  were 
drinking,  but  his  wife  had  told  him  the  whole 
story.  Lascelles  wanted  more  drink, — cham 
pagne  ;  the  bar-tender  wanted  to  close  up.  They 
bought  several  bottles,  however,  and  had  them 
put  in  the  cab,  and  Lascelles  was  gay  and  sing 
ing,  and,  instead  of  going  directly  home,  insisted 
on  stopping  to  make  a  call  on  the  lady  who  oc 
cupied  the  upper  floor  of  the  house  Doyle  rented 
on  the  levee.  Doyle  rarely  saw  her,  but  she 
sometimes  wrote  to  Lascelles  and  got  Bridget 
to  take  the  letters  to  him.  She  was  setting  her 
cap  for  the  old  Frenchman.  "  We  called  her 
Mrs.  Dawson."  The  cabman  drove  very  slowly 
through  the  storm  as  Doyle  walked  home  along 
with  Bridget  and  some  man  who  was  helping, 
and  when  they  reached  the  gate  there  was  the 
cab  and  Waring  in  it.  The  cab-driver  was  stand 
ing  by  his  horse,  swearing  at  the  delay  and  say 
ing  he  would  charge  double  fare.  Doyle  had 
had  trouble  with  his  wife  for  many  years,  and 
renewed  trouble  lately  because  of  two  visits  Las 
celles  had  paid  there,  and  that  evening  when  she 


192  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

Bent  for  him  lie  was  drinking  in  Waring's  room, 
had  been  drinking  during  the  day ;  he  dreaded 
more  trouble,  and  'twas  he  who  took  Waring's 
knife,  and  still  had  it,  he  said,  when  he  entered 
the  gate,  and  no  sooner  did  he  see  Lascelles  at 
his  door  than  he  ordered  him  to  leave.  Lascelles 
refused  to  go.  Doyle  knocked  him  down,  and 
the  Frenchman  sprang  up,  swearing  vengeance. 
Lascelles  fired  two  shots,  and  Doyle  struck  once, 
— with  the  knife, — and  there  lay  Lascelles,  dead, 
before  Doyle  could  know  or  realize  what  he  was 
doing.  In  fact,  Doyle  never  did  know.  It  was 
what  his  wife  had  told  him,  and  life  had  been  a 
hell  to  him  ever  since  that  woman  came  back. 
She  had  blackmailed  him,  more  or  less,  ever 
since  he  got  his  commission,  because  of  an  old 
trouble  he'd  had  in  Texas. 

And  this  confession  was  written  out  for  him, 
signed  by  Doyle  on  his  dying  bed,  duly  wit 
nessed,  and  the  civil  authorities  were  promptly 
notified.  Bridget  Doyle  was  handed  over  to  the 
police.  Certain  detectives  out  somewhere  on  the 
trail  of  somebody  else  were  telegraphed  to  come 
in,  and  four  days  later,  when  the  force  of  the 
fever  was  broken  and  Waring  lay  weak,  languid, 
but  returning  to  his  senses,  Cram  and  the  doctor 


WARINO-S  PERIL.  103 

read  the  confession  to  their  patient,  and  then 
started  to  their  feet  as  he  almost  sprang  from 
the  bed. 

"  It's  an  infernal  lie !"  he  weakly  cried.  "  I 
took  that  knife  from  Doyle  and  kept  it.  I  my 
self  saw  Lascelles  to  his  gate,  safe  and  sound. " 


17 


194  WA  RING'S  PERIL. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  sunshine  of  an  exquisite  April  morning 
was  shimmering  over  the  Louisiana  lowlands  as 
Battery  "X"  was  "  hitching  in,"  and  Mrs.  Cram's 
pretty  pony-phaeton  came  flashing  through  the 
garrison  gate  and  reined  up  in  front  of  the  guns. 
A  proud  and  happy  woman  was  Mrs.  Cram,  and 
daintily  she  gathered  the  spotless,  cream-colored 
reins  and  slanted  her  long  English  driving-whip 
at  the  exact  angle  prescribed  by  the  vogue  of  the 
day.  By  her  side,  reclining  luxuriously  on  his 
pillows,  was  Sam  Waring,  now  senior  first  lieu 
tenant  of  the  battery,  taking  his  first  airing  since 
his  strange  illness.  Pallid  and  thin  though  he 
was,  that  young  gentleman  was  evidently  capable 
of  appreciating  to  the  fullest  extent  the  devoted 
attentions  of  which  he  had  been  the  object  ever 
since  his  return.  Stanch  friend  and  fervent 
champion  of  her  husband's  most  distinguished 
officer  at  any  time,  Mrs.  Cram  had  thrown  her 
self  into  his  cause  with  a  zeal  that  challenged 


WARINO'S  PERIL.  195 

the  admiration  even  of  the  men  whom  she  mer 
cilessly  snubbed  because  they  had  accepted  the 
general  verdict  that  Lascelles  had  died  by  Wa- 
ring's  hand.  Had  they  met  in  the  duello  as 
practised  in  the  South  in  those  days,  sword  to 
sword,  or  armed  with  pistol  at  twelve  paces,  she 
would  have  shuddered,  but  maintained  that  as  a 
soldier  and  gentleman  Waring  could  not  have 
refused  his  opponent's  challenge,  inexcusable 
though  such  challenge  might  have  been.  But 
that  he  could  have  stooped  to  vulgar,  unregu 
lated  fracas,  without  seconds  or  the  formality 
of  the  cartel,  first  with  fists  and  those  women's 
weapons,  nails,  then  knives  or  stilettoes,  as 
though  he  was  some  low  dago  or  Sicilian, — why, 
that  was  simply  and  utterly  incredible.  None 
the  less  she  was  relieved  and  rejoiced,  as  were  all 
"Waring's  friends,  when  the  full  purport  of  poor 
Doyle's  dying  confession  was  noised  abroad. 
Even  those  who  were  sceptical  were  now  si 
lenced.  For  four  days  her  comfort  and  relief 
had  been  inexpressible ;  and  then  came  the  hour 
when,  with  woe  and  trouble  in  his  face,  her 
husband  returned  to  her  from  Waring's  bedside 
with  the  incomprehensible  tidings  that  he  had 
utterly  repudiated  Doyle's  confession, — had,  in- 


196  WARJNO'S  PERIL. 

deed,  said  that  which  could  probably  only  serve 
to  renew  the  suspicion  of  his  own  guilt,  or  else 
justify  the  theory  that  he  was  demented. 

Though  Cram  and  the  doctor  warned  Wa 
ring  not  to  talk,  talk  he  would,  to  Pierce,  to 
Ferry,  to  Ananias;  and  though  these  three 
were  pledged  by  Cram  to  reveal  to  no  one  what 
Waring  said,  it  plunged  them  in  an  agony  of 
doubt  and  misgiving.  Day  after  day  had  the 
patient  told  and  re-told  the  story,  and  never 
could  cross-questioning  shake  him  in  the  least. 
Cram  sent  for  Reynolds  and  took  him  into  their 
confidence,  and  Reynolds  heard  the  story  and 
added  his  questions,  but  to  no  effect.  From 
first  to  last  he  remembered  every  incident  up  to 
his  parting  with  Lascelles  at  his  own  gateway. 
After  that — nothing. 

His  story,  in  brief,  was  as  follows.  He  was 
both  surprised  and  concerned,  while  smoking 
and  chatting  with  Mr.  Allerton  in  the  rotunda 
of  the  St.  Charles,  to  see  Lascelles  with  a  friend, 
evidently  watching  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
with  him.  He  had  noticed  about  a  week  pre 
vious  a  marked  difference  in  the  old  French 
man's  manner,  and  three  days  before  the  trag 
edy,  when  calling  on  his  way  from  town  to  see 


WARING  S  PERIL.  197 

Madame  and  Nin  Nin,  was  informed  that  they 
were  not  at  home,  and  Monsieur  himself  was 
the  informant ;  nor  did  he,  as  heretofore,  invite 
Waring  to  enter.  Sam  was  a  fellow  who  de 
tested  misunderstanding.  Courteously,  but  pos 
itively,  he  demanded  explanation.  Lascelles 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  gave  it.  He  had 
heard  too  much  of  Monsieur's  attentions  to  Ma 
dame  his  wife,  and  desired  their  immediate 
discontinuance.  He  must  request  Monsieur's 
assurance  that  he  would  not  again  visit  Beau 
Rivage,  or  else  the  reparation  due  a  man  of 
honor,  etc.  "Whereupon,"  said  Waring,  "I 
didn't  propose  to  be  outdone  in  civility,  and 
therefore  replied,  in  the  best  French  I  could 
command,  *  Permit  me  to  tender  Monsieur — both. 
Monsieur's  friends  will  find  me  at  the  bar- 


"  All  the  same,"  said  Waring,  "  when  I  found 
Madame  and  Nin  Mn  stuck  in  the  mud  I  did 
what  I  considered  the  proper  thing,  and  drove 
them,  coram  publico,  to  'bonne  maman's,'  never 
letting  them  see,  of  course,  that  there  was  any 
row  on  tap,  and  so  when  I  saw  the  old  fellow 
with  a  keen-looking  party  alongside  I  felt  sure  it 
meant  mischief.  I  was  utterly  surprised,  there- 
17* 


198  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

fore,  when  Lascelles  came  up  with  hat  off  and 
hand  extended,  howing  low,  praying  pardon  for 
the  intrusion,  hut  saying  he  could  not  defer 
another  instant  the  desire  to  express  his  grati 
tude  the  most  profound  for  my  extreme  courtesy 
to  Madame  and  his  heloved  child.  He  had 
heard  the  whole  story,  and,  to  my  confusion, 
insisted  on  going  over  all  the  details  before 
Allerton,  even  to  my  heroism,  as  he  called  it,  in 
knocking  down  that  big  bully  of  a  cabman.  I 
was  confused,  yet  couldn't  shake  him  off.  He 
was  persistent.  He  was  abject.  He  begged  to 
meet  my  friend,  to  present  his,  to  open  cham 
pagne  and  drink  eternal  friendship.  He  would 
change  the  name  of  his  chfiteau — the  rotten  old 
rookery — from  Beau  Kivage  to  Belle  Alliance. 
He  would  make  this  day  a  fete  in  the  calendar 
of  the  Lascelles  family.  And  then  it  began  to 
dawn  on  me  that  he  had  been  drinking  cham 
pagne  before  he  came.  I  did  not  catch  the 
name  of  the  other  gentleman,  a  much  younger 
man.  He  was  very  ceremonious  and  polite,  but 
distant.  Then,  in  some  way,  came  up  the  fact 
that  I  had  been  trying  to  get  a  cab  to  take  me 
back  to  barracks,  and  then  Lascelles  declared 
that  nothing  could  be  more  opportune.  He  had 


WARING'S  PERIL.  199 

secured  a  carriage  and  was  just  going  down  with 
Monsieur.  They  had  des  affaires  to  transact  at 
once.  He  took  rae  aside  and  said,  *  In  proof 
that  you  accept  my  amende,  and  in  order  that  I 
may  make  to  you  my  personal  apologies,  you 
must  accept  my  invitation.'  So  go  with  them  I 
did.  I  was  all  the  time  thinking  of  Cram's  mys 
terious  note  bidding  me  return  at  taps.  I  couldn't 
imagine  what  was  up,  but  I  made  my  best  en 
deavors  to  get  a  cab.  None  was  to  be  had,  so  I 
was  really  thankful  for  this  opportunity.  All  the 
way  down  Lascelles  overwhelmed  me  with  civili 
ties,  and  I  could  only  murmur  and  protest,  and 
the  other  party  only  murmured  approbation. 
He  hardly  spoke  English  at  all.  Then  Lascelles 
insisted  on  a  stop  at  the  Pelican  and  on  bumpers 
of  champagne,  and  there,  as  luck  would  have 
it,  was  Doyle, — drunk,  as  usual,  and  determined 
to  join  the  party ;  and  though  I  endeavored  to 
put  him  aside,  Lascelles  would  not  have  it.  He 
insisted  on  being  presented  to  the  comrade  of 
his  gallant  friend,  and  in  the  private  room  where 
we  went  he  overwhelmed  Doyle  with  details  of 
our  grand  reconciliation  and  with  bumper  after 
bumper  of  Krug.  This  enabled  me  to  fight 
shy  of  the  wine,  but  in  ten  minutes  Doyle  was 


200  WARINO'S  PERIL. 

fighting  drunk,  Lascelles  tipsy.  The  driver 
came  in  for  his  pay,  saying  he  would  go  no 
further.  They  had  a  row.  Lascelles  wouldn't 
pay ;  called  him  an  Irish  thief,  and  all  that.  I 
slipped  my  last  Y  into  the  driver's  hand  and 
got  him  out  somehow.  Monsieur  Philippes,  or 
whatever  his  name  was,  said  he  would  go  out, — 
he'd  get  a  cab  in  the  neighborhood ;  and  the 
next  thing  I  knew,  Lascelles  and  Doyle  were  in 
a  fury  of  a  row.  Lascelles  said  all  the  Irish 
were  knaves  and  blackguards  and  swindlers,  and 
Doyle  stumbled  around  after  him.  Out  came  a 
pistol !  Out  came  a  knife !  I  tripped  Doyle 
and  got  him  into  a  chair,  and  was  so  intent  on 
pacifying  him  and  telling  him  not  to  make  a 
fool  of  himself  that  I  didn't  notice  anything  else. 
I  handled  him  good-naturedly,  got  the  knife 
away,  and  then  was  amazed  to  find  that  he  had 
my  own  pet  paper-cutter.  I  made  them  shake 
hands  and  make  up.  It  was  all  a  mistake,  said 
Lascelles.  But  what  made  it  a  worse  mistake, 
the  old  man  would  order  more  wine,  and,  with  it, 
brandy.  He  insisted  on  celebrating  this  second 
grand  reconciliation,  and  then  both  got  drunker, 
but  the  tall  Frenchman  had  Lascelles's  pistol 
and  I  had  the  knife,  and  then  a  cab  came,  and, 


WAKING'S   PERIL.  201 

though  it  was  storming  beastly  and  I  had  Ferry's 
duds  on  and  Larkin's  best  tile  and  Pierce's  um 
brella,  we  bundled  in  somehow  and  drove  on 
down  the  levee,  leaving  Doyle  in  the  hands  of 
that  Amazon  of  a  wife  of  his  and  a  couple  of 
doughboys  who  happened  to  be  around  there. 
Now  Lascelles  was  all  hilarity,  singing,  joking, 
confidential.  Nothing  would  do  but  we  must 
stop  and  call  on  a  lovely  woman,  a  belle  amie. 
He  could  rely  on  our  discretion,  he  said,  laying 
his  finger  on  his  nose,  and  looking  sly  and  coquet 
tish,  for  all  the  world  like  some  old  roue  of  a 
Frenchman.  He  must  stop  and  see  her  and  take 
her  some  wine.  *  Indeed,'  he  said,  mysteriously, 
*  it  is  a  rendezvous.'  "Well,  I  was  their  guest;  I 
had  no  money.  What  could  I  do  ?  It  was  then 
after  eleven,  I  should  judge.  Monsieur  Phi- 
lippes,  or  whatever  his  name  was,  gave  orders 
to  the  driver.  We  pulled  up,  and  then,  to  my 
surprise,  I  found  we  were  at  Doyle's.  That 
ended  it.  I  told  them  they  must  excuse  me. 
They  protested,  but  of  course  I  couldn't  go  in 
there.  So  they  took  a  couple  of  bottles  apiece 
and  went  in  the  gate,  and  I  settled  myself  for  a 
nap  and  got  it.  I  don't  know  how  long  I  slept, 
but  I  was  aroused  by  the  devil's  own  tumult. 


202  WAKING'S   PERIL. 

A  shot  had  been  fired.  Men  and  women  both 
were  screaming  and  swearing.  Some  one  sud 
denly  burst  into  the  cab  beside  me,  really 
pushed  from  behind,  and  then  away  we  went 
through  the  mud  and  the  rain;  and  the  light 
ning  was  flashing  now,  and  presently  I  could 
recognize  Lascelles,  raging.  *  Infame !'  '  Co- 
quin  P  '  Assassin !'  were  the  mildest  terms  ho 
was  volleying  at  somebody ;  and  then,  recogniz 
ing  me,  he  burst  into  maudlin  tears,  swore  I  was 
his  only  friend.  He  had  been  insulted,  abused, 
denied  reparation.  Was  he  hurt?  I  inquired, 
and  instinctively  felt  for  my  knife.  It  was  still 
there  where  I'd  hid  it  in  the  inside  pocket  of 
my  overcoat.  No  hurt ;  not  a  blow.  Did  I  sup 
pose  that  he,  a  Frenchman,  would  pardon  that 
or  leave  the  spot  until  satisfaction  had  been 
exacted?  Then  I  begged  him  to  be  calm  and 
listen  to  me  for  a  moment.  I  told  him  my 
plight, — that  I  had  given  my  word  to  be  at 
barracks  that  evening ;  that  I  had  no  money  left, 
but  I  could  go  no  further.  Instantly  he  forgot 
his  woes  and  became  absorbed  in  my  affairs. 
*  Parole  d'honneur  !'  he  would  see  that  mine  was 
never  unsullied.  He  himself  would  escort  me 
to  the  maison  de  Capitaine  Cram.  He  would  re- 


WARING' S  PERIL.  203 

joice  to  say  to  that  brave  ennemi,  Behold !  here 
is  thy  lieutenant,  of  honor  the  most  unsullied, 
of  courage  the  most  admirable,  of  heart  the 
most  magnanimous.  The  Lord  only  knows 
what  he  wouldn't  have  done  had  we  not  pulled 
up  at  his  gate.  There  I  helped  him  out  on  the 
banquette.  He  was  steadied  by  his  row,  what 
ever  it  had  been.  He  would  not  let  me  expose 
myself  —  even  under  Pierce's  umbrella.  He 
would  not  permit  me  to  suffer  'from  times  so 
of  the  dog/  'You  will  drive  Monsieur  to  his 
home  and  return  here  for  me  at  once,'  he 
ordered  cabby,  grasped  both  my  hands  with  fer 
vent  good-night  and  the  explanation  that  he  had 
much  haste,  implored  pardon  for  leaving  me, — 
on  the  morrow  he  would  call  and  explain  every 
thing, — then  darted  into  the  gate.  We  never 
could  have  parted  on  more  friendly  terms.  I 
stood  a  moment  to  see  that  he  safely  reached 
his  door,  for  a  light  was  dimly  burning  in  the 
hall,  then  turned  to  jump  into  the  cab,  but  it 
wasn't  there.  Nothing  was  there.  I  jumped 
from  the  banquette  into  a  berth  aboard  some 
steamer  out  at  sea.  They  tell  me  the  first  thing 
I  asked  for  was  Pierce's  umbrella  and  Larkin's 
hat." 


204  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

And  this  was  the  story  that  Waring  main 
tained  from  first  to  last.  "Pills"  ventured  a 
query  as  to  whether  the  amount  of  Krug  and 
Clicquot  consumed  might  not  have  overthrown 
his  mental  equipoise.  No,  Sam  declared,  he 
drank  very  little.  "The  only  bacchanalian 
thing  I  did  was  to  join  in  a  jovial  chorus  from  a 
new  French  opera  which  Lascelles's  friend  piped 
up  and  I  had  heard  in  the  North : 

Oui,  buvons,  buvons  encore ! 

S'il  est  un  vin  qu'on  adore 

De  Paris  a  Macao, 

C'est  le  Clicquot,  c'est  le  Clicquot." 

Asked  if  he  had  formed  any  conjecture  as  to 
the  identity  of  the  stranger,  Sam  said  no.  The 
name  sounded  like  "  Philippes,"  but  he  couldn't 
be  sure.  But  when  told  that  there  were  rumors 
to  the  effect  that  Lascelles's  younger  brother  had 
been  seen  with  him  twice  or  thrice  of  late,  and 
that  he  had  been  in  exile  because,  if  anything, 
of  a  hopeless  passion  for  Madame  his  sister-in- 
law,  and  that  his  name  was  Philippe,  Waring 
looked  dazed.  Then  a  sudden  light,  as  of  newer, 
fresher  memory,  flashed  up  in  his  eyes.  He 
seemed  about  to  speak,  but  as  suddenly  con- 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  205 

trolled  himself  and  turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 
From  that  time  on  he  was  determinedly  dumb 
about  the  stranger.  "What  roused  him  to  lively 
interest  and  conjecture,  however,  was  Cram's 
query  as  to  whether  he  had  not  recognized  in  the 
cabman,  called  in  by  the  stranger,  the  very  one 
whom  he  had  "  knocked  endwise"  and  who  had 
tried  to  shoot  him  that  morning.  "No,"  said 
Waring:  "the  man  did  not  speak  at  all,  that 
I  noticed,  and  I  did  not  once  see  his  face,  he 
was  so  bundled  up  against  the  storm."  But  if 
it  was  the  same  party,  suggested  he,  it  seemed 
hardly  necessary  to  look  any  further  in  expla 
nation  of  his  own  disappearance.  Cabby  had 
simply  squared  matters  by  knocking  him  sense 
less,  helping  himself  to  his  watch  and  ring,  and 
turning  out  his  pockets,  then  hammering  him 
until  frightened  off,  and  then,  to  cover  his  tracks, 
setting  him  afloat  in  Anatole's  boat. 

"  Perhaps  cabby  took  a  hand  in  the  murder, 
too,"  suggested  Sam,  with  eager  interest.  "  You 
say  he  had  disappeared, — gone  with  his  plunder. 
Now,  who  else  could  have  taken  my  knife  ?" 

Then  Reynolds  had  something  to  tell  him : 
that  the  u  lady"  who  wrote  the  anonymous  let 
ters,  the  belle  amie  whom  Lascelles  proposed  to 
18 


206  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

visit,  the  occupant  of  the  upper  floor  of  "  the 
dove-cot,"  was  none  other  than  the  blighted 
floweret  who  had  appealed  to  him  for  aid  and 
sympathy,  for  fifty  dollars  at  first  and  later  for 
more,  the  first  year  of  his  army  service  in  the 
South,  "  for  the  sake  of  the  old  home."  Then 
"Waring  grew  even  more  excited  and  interested. 
"  Pills"  put  a  stop  to  further  developments  for  a 
few  days.  He  feared  a  relapse.  But,  in  spite 
of  "  Pills,"  the  developments,  like  other  maladies, 
throve.  The  little  detective  came  down  again. 
He  was  oddly  inquisitive  about  that  chanson  d, 
boire  from  "  Fleur  de  TM."  "Would  Mr.  Waring 
hum  it  for  him  ?  And  Sam,  now  sitting  up  in 
his  parlor,  turned  to  his  piano,  and  with  long, 
slender,  fragile-looking  fingers  rattled  a  lively 
prelude  and  then  faintly  quavered  the  rollicking 
words. 

"  Odd,"  said  Mr.  Pepper,  as  they  had  grown 
to  call  him,  "  I  heard  that  sung  by  a  fellow  up  in 
Chartres  Street  two  nights  hand-running  before 
this  thing  happened, — a  merry  cuss,  too,  with  a 
rather  loose  hand  on  his  shekels.  Lots  of  people 
may  know  it,  though,  mayn't  they  ?"' 

"No,  indeed,  not  down  here,"  said  Sam. 
"  It  only  came  out  in  New  York  within  the  last 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  207 

four  months,  and  hasn't  been  South  or  West  at 
all,  that  I  know  of.  What  did  he  look  like  ?" 

"  Well,  what  did  the  feller  that  was  with  you 
look  like?" 

But  here  Sam's  description  grew  vague.  So 
Pepper  went  up  to  have  a  beer  by  himself  at 
the  cafi  chantant  on  Chartres  Street,  and  didn't 
return"  for  nearly  a  week. 

Meantime  came  this  exquisite  April  morning 
and  Sam's  appearance  in  the  pony-phaeton  in 
front  of  Battery  "  X."  Even  the  horses  seemed 
to  prick  up  their  ears  and  be  glad  to  see  him. 
Grim  old  war  sergeants  rode  up  to  touch  their 
caps  and  express  the  hope  that  they'd  soon  have 
the  lieutenant  in  command  of  the  right  section 
again, — "not  but  what  Loot'n't  Ferry's  doing 
first-rate,  sir," — and  for  a  few  minutes,  as  his  fair 
charioteer  drove  him  around  the  battery,  in  his 
weak,  languid  voice,  Waring  indulged  in  a  little 
of  his  own  characteristic  chaffing : 

"  I  expect  you  to  bring  this  section  up  to  top 
notch,  Mr.  Ferry,  as  I  am  constitutionally  op 
posed  to  any  work  on  my  own  account.  I  beg  to 
call  your  attention,  sir,  to  the  fact  that  it's  very 
bad  form  to  appear  with  full-dress  schabraque  on 
your  horse  when  the  battery  is  in  fatigue.  The 


208  WARING1  S  PERIL. 

red  blanket,  sir,  the  red  blanket  only  should  be 
used.  Be  good  enough  to  stretch  your  traces 
there,  right  caisson.  Yes,  I  thought  so,  swing 
trace  is  twisted.  Carelessness,  Mr.  Ferry,  and 
indifference  to  duty  are  things  I  won't  tolerate. 
Your  cheek-strap,  too,  sir,  is  an  inch  too  long. 
Your  bit  will  fall  through  that  horse's  mouth. 
This  won't  do,  sir,  not  in  my  section,  sir.  I'll 
fine  you  a  box  of  Partagas  if  it  occurs  again." 

But  the  blare  of  the  bugle  sounding  "  atten 
tion"  announced  the  presence  of  the  battery 
commander.  Nell  whipped  up  in  an  instant  and 
whisked  her  invalid  out  of  the  way. 

"Good-morning,  Captain  Cram,"  said  he,  as 
he  passed  his  smiling  chief.  "  I  regret  to  ob 
serve,  sir,  that  things  have  been  allowed  to  run 
down  somewhat  in  my  absence." 

"  Oh,  out  with  you,  you  combination  of  cheek 
and  incapacity,  or  I'll  run  you  down  with  the 
whole  battery.  Oh !  Waring,  some  gentlemen 
in  a  carriage  have  just  stopped  at  your  quar 
ters,  all  in  black,  too.  Ah,  here's  the  orderly 
now." 

And  the  card,  black-bordered,  handed  into  the 
phaeton,  bore  a  name  which  blanched  Waring'a 
face: 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  209 


N'"<  Or/tans. 


"Why,  what  is  it,  Waring?"  asked  Cram, 
anxiously,  bending  down  from  his  saddle. 

For  a  moment  Waring  was  silent.  Mrs.  Cram 
felt  her  own  hand  trembling. 

"  Can  you  turn  the  battery  over  to  Ferry  and 
come  with  me  ?"  asked  the  lieutenant. 

"  Certainly.— Bugler,  report  to  Lieutenant 
Ferry  and  tell  him  I  shall  have  to  be  absent  for 
a  while. — Drive  on,  Nell." 

When,  five  minutes  later,  Waring  was  assisted 
up  the  stair-way,  Cram  towering  on  his  right, 
the  little  party  came  upon  a  group  of  strangers, 
— three  gentlemen,  one  of  whom  stepped  cour 
teously  forward,  raising  his  hat  in  a  black-gloved 
hand.  He  was  of  medium  height,  slender,  erect, 
and  soldierly  in  bearing ;  his  face  was  dark  and 
oval,  his  eyes  large,  deep,  and  full  of  light.  He 

o  18* 


210  WARING'S  PERIL. 

spoke  mainly  in  English,  but  with  marked  accent, 
and  the  voice  was  soft  and  melodious : 

"I  fear  I  have  intrude.  Have  I  the  honor 
to  address  Lieutenant  Waring  ?  I  am  Philippe 
Lascelles." 

For  a  moment  Waring  was  too  amazed  to 
speak.  At  last,  with  brightening  face  and  hold 
ing  forth  his  hand,  he  said, — 

"  I  am  most  glad  to  meet  you, — to  know  that 
it  was  not  you  who  drove  down  with  us  that 
night." 

"Alas,  no!  I  left  Armand  but  that  very 
morning,  returning  to  Havana,  thence  going  to 
Santiago.  It  was  not  until  five  days  ago  the 
news  reached  me.  It  is  of  that  stranger  I  come 
to  ask." 

It  was  an  odd  council  gathered  there  in  Wa- 
ring's  room  in  the  old  barracks  that  April  morn 
ing  while  Ferry  was  drilling  the  battery  to  his 
heart's  content  and  the  infantry  companies  were 
wearily  going  over  the  manual  or  bayonet  ex 
ercise.  Old  Brax  had  been  sent  for,  and  came. 
Monsieur  Lascelles's  friends,  both,  like  himself, 
soldiers  of  the  South,  were  presented,  and  for 
their  information  "Waring's  story  was  again  told, 
with  only  most  delicate  allusion  to  certain  inci- 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  211 

dents  which  might  be  considered  as  reflecting  on 
the  character  and  dignity  of  the  elder  brother. 
And  then  Philippe  told  his.  True,  there  had 
been  certain  transactions  between  Armand  and 
himself.  He  had  fully  trusted  his  brother,  a 
man  of  affairs,  with  the  management  of  the  little 
inheritance  which  he,  a  soldier,  had  no  idea  how 
to  handle,  and  Armand's  business  had  suffered 
greatly  by  the  war.  It  was  touching  to  see  how 
in  every  word  the  younger  strove  to  conceal  the 
fact  that  the  elder  had  misapplied  the  securities 
and  had  been  practically  faithless  to  his  trust. 
Everything,  he  declared,  had  been  finally  settled 
as  between  them  that  very  morning  before  his 
return  to  Havana.  Armand  had  brought  to  him 
early  all  papers  remaining  in  his  possession  and 
had  paid  him  what  was  justly  due.  He  knew, 
however,  that  Armand  was  now  greatly  em 
barrassed  in  his  affairs.  They  had  parted  with 
fond  embrace,  the  most  affectionate  of  brothers. 
But  Philippe  had  been  seeing  and  hearing 
enough  to  make  him  gravely  apprehensive  as 
to  Armand's  future,  to  know  that  his  business 
was  rapidly  going  down-hill,  that  he  had  been 
raising  money  in  various  ways,  speculating,  and 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  sharpers,  and  yet 


212  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

Arm  and  would  not  admit  it,  would  not  consent 
to  accept  help  or  to  use  his  younger  brother's 
property  in  any  way.  "  The  lawyer,"  said 
Philippe,  "  informed  me  that  Beau  Rivage  was 
heavily  mortgaged,  and  it  is  feared  that  there 
will  be  nothing  left  for  Madame  and  Nin  Kin, 
though,  for  that  matter,  they  shall  never  want," 
What  he  had  also  urged,  and  he  spoke  with 
reluctance  here,  and  owned  it  only  because  the 
detectives  told  him  it  was  now  well  known,  was 
that  Armand  had  of  late  been  playing  the  rdle 
of  galant  homme,  and  that  the  woman  in  the  case 
had  fled.  Of  all  this  he  felt,  he  said,  bound  to 
speak  fully,  because  in  coming  here  with  his 
witnesses  to  meet  Lieutenant  Waring  and  his 
friends  he  had  two  objects  in  view.  The  first 
was  to  admit  that  he  had  accepted  as  fact  the 
published  reports  that  Lieutenant  Waring  was 
probably  his  brother's  slayer ;  had  hastened  back 
to  New  Orleans  to  demand  justice  or  obtain  re 
venge;  had  here  learned  from  the  lawyers  and 
police  that  there  were  now  other  and  much  more 
probable  theories,  having  heard  only  one  of 
which  he  had  cried  "  Enough,"  and  had  come  to 
pray  the  forgiveness  of  Mr.  Waring  for  having 
believed  an  officer  and  a  gentleman  guilty  of  so 


WARINQ'S  PERIL.  213 

foul  a  crime.  Second,  he  had  come  to  invoke 
his  aid  in  running  down  the  murderer.  Phi 
lippe  was  affected  almost  to  tears. 

"There  is  one  question  I  must  beg  to  ask 
Monsieur,"  said  Waring,  as  the  two  clasped 
hands.  "Is  there  not  still  a  member  of  your 
family  who  entertains  the  idea  that  it  was  I  who 
killed  Armand  Lascelles  ?" 

And  Philippe  was  deeply  embarrassed. 

"  Ah,  monsieur,"  he  answered,  "  I  could  not 
venture  to  intrude  myself  upon  a  grief  so  sacred. 
I  have  not  seen  Madame,  and  who  is  there  who 

could — who  would — tell  her  of  Armand's " 

And  Philippe  broke  off  abruptly,  with  despair 
ing  shrug,  and  outward  wave  of  his  slender 
hand. 

"  Let  us  try  to  see  that  she  never  does  know," 
said  Waring.  "  These  are  the  men  we  need  to 
find :  the  driver  of  the  cab,  the  stranger  whose 
name  sounded  so  like  yours,  a  tall,  swarthy, 
black-haired,  black-eyed  fellow  with  pointed 
moustache " 

"  C'est  lui !  c'est  bien  lui !"  exclaimed  Lascelles, 
— "the  very  man  who  insisted  on  entering  the 
private  office  where,  Armand  and  I,  we  close 
our  affairs  that  morning.  His  whispered  words 


214  WARINQ'S  PERIL. 

make  my  brother  all  of  pale,  and  yet  he  go  off 
humming  to  himself." 

"  Oh,  we'll  nail  him,"  said  Cram.  «  Two  of 
the  best  detectives  in  the  South  are  on  his  trail 
now." 

And  then  came  Ananias  with  a  silver  tray, 
champagne,  and  glasses  (from  Mrs.  Cram),  and 
the  conference  went  on  another  hour  before  the 
guests  went  off. 

"  Bless  my  soul !"  said  Brax,  whose  diameter 
seemed  in  no  wise  increased  by  the  quart  of 
Roederer  he  had  swallowed  with  such  gusto, — 
"bless  my  soul!  and  to  think  I  believed  that 
we  were  going  to  have  a  duel  with  some  of  those 
fellows  a  fortnight  or  so  ago !" 

Then  entered  "Pills"  and  ordered  Waring 
back  to  bed.  He  was  sleeping  placidly  when, 
late  that  evening,  Reynolds  and  Cram  came 
tearing  up  the  stair- way,  full  of  great  news ;  but 
the  doctor  said  not  to  wake  him. 

Meantime,  how  fared  it  with  that  bruised  reed, 
the  lone  widow  of  the  late  Lieutenant  Doyle  ? 
Poor  old  Jim  had  been  laid  away  with  military 
honors  under  the  flag  at  Chalmette,  and  his 
faithful  Bridget  was  spending  the  days  in  the 
public  calaboose.  Drunk  and  disorderly  was  the 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  215 

charge  on  which  she  had  been  arraigned,  and, 
though  she  declared  herself  abundantly  able  to 
pay  her  fine  twice  over,  Mr.  Pepper  had  warned 
the  authorities  to  keep  her  under  lock  and  key 
and  out  of  liquor,  as  her  testimony  would  be 
of  vital  importance,  if  for  nothing  better  than 
to  send  her  up  for  perjury.  Now  she  was  al 
ternately  wheedling,  cursing,  coaxing,  bribing; 
all  to  no  purpose.  The  agent  of  the  Lemaitre 
property  had  swooped  down  on  the  dove-cot  and 
found  a  beggarly  array  of  empty  bottles  and  a 
good  deal  of  discarded  feminine  gear  scattered 
about  on  both  floors.  One  room  in  which  cer 
tain  detectives  were  vastly  interested  contained 
the  unsavory  relics  of  a  late  supper.  Three  or 
four  empty  champagne-bottles,  some  shattered 
glasses,  and,  what  seemed  most  to  attract  them, 
various  stubs  of  partially-consumed  cigarettes, 
lay  about  the  tables  and  floor.  Adjoining  this 
was  the  chamber  which  had  been  known  as  Mrs. 
Dawson's,  and  this,  too,  had  been  thoroughly 
explored.  'Louette,  who  had  disappeared  after 
Doyle's  tragic  death,  was  found  not  far  away, 
and  the  police  thought  it  but  fair  that  Mrs. 
Doyle  should  not  be  deprived  of  the  services  of 
her  maid.  Then  came  other  additions,  though 


216  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

confined  in  other  sections  of  the  city.  Mr. 
Pepper  wired  that  the  party  known  as  Mon 
sieur  Philippes  had  been  run  to  earth  and  would 
reach  town  with  him  by  train  about  the  same 
time  that  another  of  the  force  returned  from  Mo 
bile  by  boat,  bringing  a  young  man  known  as 
Dawson  and  wanted  as  a  deserter,  and  a  very 
sprightly  young  lady  who  appeared  to  move  in  a 
higher  sphere  of  life,  but  was  unquestionably  his 
wife,  for  the  officer  could  prove  their  marriage 
in  South  Carolina  in  the  spring  of  '65.  As  Mr. 
Pepper  expressed  it  when  he  reported  to  Rey 
nolds,  "  It's  almost  a  full  hand,  but,  for  a  fact, 
it's  only  a  bobtail  flush.  We  need  that  cabman 
to  fill." 

"  How  did  you  trace  Philippes  ?"  asked  Rey 
nolds. 

"  Him  ?  Oh,  he  was  too  darned  musical.  It 
was — what  do  you  call  it  ? — Flure  de  Tay  that 
did  for  him.  Why,  he's  the  fellow  that  raised 
all  the  money  and  most  of  the  h — 11  for  this  old 
man  Lascelles.  He'd  been  sharping  him  for 
years." 

"Well,  when  can  we  bring  this  thing  to  a 
head  ?"  asked  the  aide-de-camp. 

"  Poco  tiempo  I  by  Saturday,  I  reckon." 


WARING'S  PERIL.  217 

But  it  came  sooner. 

"Waring  was  seated  one  lovely  evening  in  a 
low  reclining  chair  on  Mrs.  Cram's  broad  gallery, 
sipping  contentedly  at  the  cup  of  fragrant  tea 
she  had  handed  him.  The  hand  was  playing, 
and  a  numher  of  children  were  chasing  about 
in  noisy  glee.  The  men  were  at  supper,  the  offi 
cers,  as  a  rule,  at  mess.  For  several  minutes 
the  semi-restored  invalid  had  not  spoken  a 
word.  In  one  of  his  customary  day-dreams  he 
had  been  calmly  gazing  at  the  shapely  white 
hand  of  his  hostess,  "  all  queenly  with  its  weight 
of  rings." 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  examine  those  rings 
a  moment?"  he  said. 

"  Why,  certainly.  No,  you  sit  still,  Mr.  Wa 
ring,"  she  replied,  promptly  rising,  and,  pulling 
them  off  her  fingers,  dropped  them  into  his  open 
palm.  With  the  same  dreamy  expression  on  his 
clear-cut,  pallid  face,  he  turned  them  over  and 
over,  held  them  up  to  the  light,  finally  selected 
one  exquisite  gem,  and  then,  half  rising,  held 
forth  the  others.  As  she  took  them  and  still 
stood  beside  his  chair  as  though  patiently  wait 
ing,  he  glanced  up. 

"  Oh,  beg  pardon.  You  want  this,  I  suppose  ?" 
K  19 


218  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

and,  handing  her  the  dainty  teacup,  he  calmly 
slipped  the  ring  into  his  waistcoat-pocket  and 
languidly  murmured, "  Thanks." 

"  Well,  I  like  that." 

"Yes?  So  do  I,  rather  better  than  the 
others." 

"  May  I  ask  what  you  purpose  doing  with  my 
ring?" 

"I  was  just  thinking.  I've  ordered  a  new 
Amidon  for  Larkin,  a  new  ninety-dollar  suit  for 
Ferry,  and  I  shall  be  decidedly  poor  this  month, 
even  if  we  recover  Merton's  watch." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  it's  only  to  pawn  one,  why  not 
take  a  diamond  ?" 

"  But  it  isn't." 

«  What  then,  pray  ?" 

"  Well,  again  I  was  just  thinking — whether  I 
could  find  another  to  match  this  up  in  town,  or 
send  this  one — to  her." 

"  Mr.  Waring  !  Really  f"  And  now  Mrs. 
Cram's  bright  eyes  are  dancing  with  eagerness 
and  delight. 

For  all  answer,  though  his  own  eyes  begin 
to  moisten  and  swim,  he  draws  from  an  inner 
pocket  a  dainty  letter,  post-marked  from  a  far, 
far  city  to  the  northeast. 


WARING'S  PERIL.  219 

"  You  dear  fellow !  How  can  I  tell  you  how 
glad  I  am !  I  haven't  dared  to  ask  you  of  her 
since  we  met  at  Washington,  but — oh,  my  heart 
has  been  just  full  of  her  since — since  this  trouble 
came." 

"  God  bless  the  trouble !  it  was  that  that  won 
her  to  me  at  last.  I  have  loved  her  ever  since 
I  first  saw  her — long  years  ago." 

"  Oh !  oh  !  OH  !  if  Ned  were  only  here !  I'm 
wild  to  tell  him.  I  may,  mayn't  I  ?" 

"  Yes,  the  moment  he  comes." 

But  Ned  brought  a  crowd  with  him  when  he 
got  back  from  town  a  little  later.  Reynolds 
was  there,  and  Philippe  Lascelles,  and  Mr.  Pep 
per,  and  they  had  a  tale  to  tell  that  must  needs 
be  condensed. 

They  had  all  been  present  by  invitation  of  the 
civil  authorities  at  a  very  dramatic  affair  during 
the  late  afternoon, — the  final  lifting  of  the  veil 
that  hid  from  public  view  the  "  strange,  eventful 
history"  of  the  Lascelles  tragedy.  Cram  was 
the  spokesman  by  common  consent.  "  With 
the  exception  of  the  Dawsons,"  said  he,  "  none 
of  the  parties  implicated  knew  up  to  the  hour 
of  his  or  her  examination  that  any  one  of  the 
others  was  to  appear."  Mrs.  Dawson,  eager  to 


220  WAKING'S  PERIL. 

save  her  own  pretty  neck,  had  told  her  story 
without  reservation.    Dawson  knew  nothing. 

The  story  had  been  wrung  from  her  piece 
meal,  but  was  finally  told  in  full,  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  officers  and  civilians  indicated. 
She  had  married  in  April,  '65,  to  the  scorn  of 
her  people,  a  young  Yankee  officer  attached  to 
the  commissary  department.  She  had  starved  all 
through  the  war.  She  longed  for  life,  luxury, 
comforts.  She  had  nothing  but  her  beauty,  he 
nothing  but  his  pay.  The  extravagances  of  a 
month  swamped  him ;  the  drink  and  desperation 
of  the  next  ruined  him.  He  maintained  her  in 
luxury  at  the  best  hotel  only  a  few  weeks,  then 
all  of  his  and  much  of  Uncle  Sam's  money  was 
gone.  Inspection  proved  him  a  thief  and  em 
bezzler.  He  fled,  and  she  was  abandoned  to  her 
own  resources.  She  had  none  but  her  beauty 
and  a  gift  of  penmanship  which  covered  the 
many  sins  of  her  orthography.  She  was  given 
a  clerkship,  but  wanted  more  money,  and  took 
it,  blackmailing  a  quartermaster.  She  imposed 
on  "Waring,  but  he  quickly  found  her  out  and 
absolutely  refused  afterwards  to  see  her  at  all. 
She  was  piqued  and  angered, "  a  woman  scorned," 
but  not  until  he  joined  Battery  "  X"  did  oppor- 


WARING' S   PERIL.  221 

tunity  present  itself  for  revenge.  She  had 
secured  a  room  under  Mrs.  Doyle's  reputable 
roof,  to  be  near  the  barracks,  where  she  could 
support  herself  by  writing  for  Mrs.  Doyle  and 
blackmailing  those  whom  she  lured,  and  where 
she  could  watch  him,  and,  to  her  eager  delight, 
she  noted  and  prepared  to  make  much  of  his 
attentions  to  Madame  Lascelles.  Incidentally, 
too,  she  might  inveigle  the  susceptible  Lascelles 
himself,  on  the  principle  that  there's  no  fool  like 
an  old  fool.  Mrs.  Doyle  lent  herself  eagerly  to 
the  scheme.  The  letters  began  to  pass  to  and 
fro  again.  Lascelles  was  fool  enough  to  answer, 
and  when,  all  on  a  sudden,  Mrs.  Doyle's  "  long- 
missing  relative,"  as  she  called  him,  turned  up, 
a  pensioner  on  her  charity,  it  was  through  the 
united  efforts  of  the  two  women  he  got  a  situ 
ation  as  cab-driver  at  the  stable  up  at  the  east 
ern  skirt  of  the  town.  Dawson  had  enlisted  to 
keep  from  starving,  and,  though  she  had  no  use 
for  him  as  a  husband,  he  would  do  to  fetch  and 
carry,  and  he  dare  not  disobey.  Twice  when 
Doyle  was  battery  officer  of  the  day  did  this 
strangely-assorted  pair  of  women  entertain  Las 
celles  at  supper  and  fleece  him  out  of  what 
money  he  had.  Then  came  Philippes  with  Las- 

19* 


222  WARINQ'S  PERIL. 

celles  in  Mike's  cab,  as  luck  would  have  it,  but 
they  could  not  fleece  Philippes.  Old  Lascelles 
was  rapidly  succumbing  to  Pita's  fascinations 
when  came  the  night  of  the  terrible  storm. 
Mike  had  got  to  drinking,  and  was  laid  low  by 
the  lieutenant.  Mike  and  Bridget  both  vowed 
vengeance.  But  meantime  Doyle  himself  had 
got  wind  of  something  that  was  going  on,  and 
he  and  his  tyrant  had  a  fearful  row.  He  com 
manded  her  never  to  allow  a  man  inside  the 
premises  when  he  was  away,  and,  though 
brought  home  drunk  that  awful  night,  furiously 
ordered  the  Frenchman  out,  and  might  have 
assaulted  them  had  not  Bridget  lassoed  him 
with  a  chloroformed  towel.  That  was  the  last 
he  knew  until  another  day.  Lascelles,  Philippes, 
and  she,  Mrs.  Dawson,  had  already  drunk  a 
bottle  of  champagne  when  interrupted  by  Doyle's 
coming.  Lascelles  was  tipsy,  had  snatched  his 
pistol  and  fired  a  shot  to  frighten  Doyle,  but  had 
only  enraged  him,  and  then  he  had  to  run  for 
his  cab.  He  was  bundled  in  and  Doyle  disposed 
of.  It  was  only  three  blocks  down  to  Beau 
Rivage,  and  thither  Mike  drove  them  in  all  the 
storm.  She  did  not  know  at  the  time  of 
Waring's  being  in  the  cab.  In  less  than  fifteen 


WARIN&S   PERIL.  223 

minutes  Mike  was  back  and  called  excitedly  for 
Bridget;  had  a  hurried  consultation  with  her; 
she  seized  a  waterproof  and  ran  out  with  him, 
but  darted  back  and  took  the  bottle  of  chloro 
form  she  had  used  on  her  husband,  now  lying 
limp  and  senseless  on  a  sofa  below,  and  then  she 
disappeared.  When  half  an  hour  passed  and 
Lascelles  failed  to  return  with  them,  bringing 
certain  papers  of  which  he'd  been  speaking  to 
Philippes,  the  latter  declared  there  must  be 
something  wrong,  and  went  out  to  reconnoitre 
despite  the  storm.  He  could  see  nothing.  It 
was  after  midnight  when  Mrs.  Doyle  came  rush 
ing  in,  gasping,  all  out  of  breath  "along  of 
the  storm,"  she  said.  She  had  been  down  the 
levee  with  Mike  to  find  a  cushion  and  lap-robe 
he  dropped  and  couldn't  afford  to  lose.  They 
never  could  have  found  it  at  all  "  but  for  ould 
Lascelles  lending  them  a  lantern."  He  wanted 
Mike  to  bring  down  two  bottles  of  champagne 
he'd  left  here,  but  it  was  storming  so  that  he 
would  not  venture  again,  and  Lieutenant  Wa 
ring,  she  said,  was  going  to  spend  the  night 
with  Lascelles  at  Beau  Rivage :  Mike  couldn't 
drive  any  further  down  towards  the  barracks. 
Lascelles  sent  word  to  Philippes  that  he'd  bring 


224  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

up  the  papers  first  thing  in  the  morning,  if  the 
storm  lulled,  and  Philippes  went  out  indignant 
at  all  the  time  lost,  but  Mike  swore  he'd  not 
drive  down  again  for  a  fortune.  So  the  French 
man  got  into  the  cab  and  went  up  with  him  to 
town.  The  moment  he  was  gone  Mrs.  Doyle 
declared  she  was  dead  tired,  used  up,  and  drank 
huge  goblets  of  the  wine  until  she  reeled  off  to 
her  room,  leaving  an  apron  behind.  Then  Mrs. 
Dawson  went  to  her  own  room,  after  putting  out 
the  lights,  and  when,  two  days  later,  she  heard 
the  awful  news  of  the  murder,  knowing  that 
investigation  would  follow  and  she  and  her  sins 
be  brought  to  light,  she  fled,  for  she  had  enough 
of  his  money  in  her  possession,  and  poor  de 
mented  Dawson,  finding  her  gone,  followed. 

Philippes's  story  corroborated  this  in  every 
particular.  The  last  he  saw  of  the  cab  or  of 
the  cabman  was  near  the  house  of  the  hook- 
and-ladder  company  east  of  the  French  Market. 
The  driver  there  said  his  horse  was  dead  beat 
and  could  do  no  more,  so  Philippes  went  into 
the  market,  succeeded  in  getting  another  cab  by 
paying  a  big  price,  slept  at  Cassidy's,  waited  all 
the  morning  about  Lascelles's  place,  and  finally, 
having  to  return  to  the  Northeast  at  once,  he 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  225 

took  the  evening  train  on  the  Jackson  road  and 
never  heard  of  the  murder  until  ten  days  after. 
He  was  amazed  at  his  arrest. 

And  then  came  hefore  his  examiners  a  mere 
physical  wreck, — the  shadow  of  his  former  self, 
—caught  at  the  high  tide  of  a  career  of  crime 
and  debauchery,  a  much  less  bulky  party  than 
the  truculent  Jehu  of  Madame  Lascelles's  cab, 
yet  no  less  important  a  witness  than  that  same 
driver.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  priest.  He 
had  been  brought  hither  in  an  ambulance  from 
the  Hotel-Dieu,  where  he  had  been  traced  several 
days  before  and  found  almost  at  death's  door. 
His  confession  was  most  important  of  all.  He 
had  struck  Lieutenant  Waring  as  that  officer 
turned  away  from  Laecelles's  gate,  intending  only 
to  down  and  then  kick  and  hammer  him,  but  he 
had  struck  with  a  lead-loaded  rubber  club,  and 
he  was  horrified  to  see  him  drop  like  one  dead. 
Then  he  lost  his  nerve  and  drove  furiously  back 
for  Bridget.  Together  they  returned,  and  found 
"Waring  lying  there  as  he  had  left  him  on  the 
dripping  banquette.  "  You've  killed  him,  Mike. 
There's  only  one  thing  to  do,"  she  said :  "  take 
his  watch  and  everything  valuable  he  has,  and 
we'll  throw  him  over  on  the  levee."  She  herself 
P 


226  WARING'S  PERIL. 

took  the  kiiife  from  his  overcoat-pocket,  lest 
he  should  recover  suddenly,  and  then,  said  the 
driver,  "even  as  we  were  bending  over  him 
there  came  a  sudden  flash  of  lightning,  and 
there  was  Lascelles  bending  over  us,  demanding 
to  know  what  it  meant.  Then  like  another  flash 
he  seemed  to  realize  what  was  up,  sprang  back, 
and  drew  pistol.  He  had  caught  us  in  the  act. 
There  was  nothing  else  to  do ;  we  both  sprang 
upon  him.  He  fired,  and  hit  me,  but  only  in 
the  arm,  and  before  he  could  pull  trigger  again 
we  both  grappled  him.  I  seized  his  gun,  Bridget 
his  throat,  but  he  screamed  and  fought  like  a 
tiger,  then  wilted  all  of  a  sudden.  I  was  scared 
and  helpless,  but  she  had  her  wits  about  her, 
and  told  me  what  to  do.  The  lieutenant  began 
to  gasp  and  revive  just  then,  so  she  soaked  the 
handkerchief  in  chloroform  and  placed  it  over 
his  mouth,  and  together  we  lifted  him  into  the 
cab.  Then  we  raised  Lascelles  and  carried  him 
in  and  laid  him  on  his  sofa,  for  he  had  left  the 
door  open  and  the  lamp  on  the  table.  Bridget 
had  been  there  before,  and  knew  all  about  the 
house.  "We  set  the  pistol  back  in  his  hand,  but 
couldn't  make  the  fingers  grasp  it.  "We  ran 
sacked  the  desk  and  got  what  money  there  was, 


WAKING'S  PERIL.  227 

locked  and  bolted  the  doors,  and  climbed  out  of 
the  side  window,  under  which  she  dropped  the 
knife  among  the  bushes.  *  They'll  never  suspect 
us  in  the  world,  Mike,'  she  said.  *  It's  the  lieu 
tenant's  knife  that  did  it,  and,  as  he  was  going 
to  fight  him  anyhow,  he'll  get  the  credit  of  it 
all.'  Then  we  drove  up  the  levee,  put  Waring 
in  Anatole's  boat,  sculls  and  all,  and  shoved  him 
off.  '  I'll  muzzle  Jim,'  she  said.  '  I'll  make  him 
believe  'twas  he  that  did  it  when  he  was  drunk.' 
She  took  most  of  the  money,  and  the  watch  and 
ring.  She  said  she  could  hide  them  until  they'd 
be  needed.  Then  I  drove  Philippes  up  to  town 
until  I  began  to  get  so  sick  and  faint  I  could  do 
no  more.  I  turned  the  cab  loose  and  got  away 
to  a  house  where  I  knew  they'd  take  care  of  me, 
and  from  there,  when  my  money  was  gone,  they 
sent  me  to  the  hospital,  thinking  I  was  dying. 
I  swear  to  God  I  never  meant  to  more  than  get 
square  with  the  lieutenant.  I  never  struck  Las- 
celles  at  all ;  'twas  she  who  drove  the  knife  into 
his  heart." 

Then,  exhausted,  he  was  led  into  an  adjoining 
room,  and  Mrs.  Doyle  was  marched  in,  the  pic 
ture  of  injured  Irish  innocence.  For  ten  minutes, 
with  wonderful  effrontery  and  nerve,  she  denied 


228  WARINO'S  PERIL. 

all  personal  participation  in  the  crime,  and  faced 
her  inquisitors  with  brazen  calm.  Then  the 
chief  quietly  turned  and  signalled.  An  officer 
led  forward  from  one  side  the  wreck  of  a  cab 
man,  supported  by  the  priest ;  a  door  opened  on 
the  other,  and,  escorted  by  another  policeman, 
Mrs.  Dawson  re-entered,  holding  in  her  hands 
outstretched  a  gingham  apron  on  which  were 
two  deep  stains  the  shape  and  size  of  a  long, 
Btraight-bladed,  two-edged  knife.  It  was  the 
apron  that  Bridget  Doyle  had  worn  that  fatal 
night.  One  quick,  furtive  look  at  that,  one 
glance  at  her  trembling,  shrinking,  cowering 
kinsman,  and,  with  an  Irish  howl  of  despair,  a 
loud  wail  of  "Mike,  Mike,  you've  sworn  your 
sister's  life  away !"  she  threw  herself  upon  the 
floor,  tearing  madly  at  her  hair.  And  so  ended 
the  mystery  of  Beau  Eivage. 

There  was  silence  a  moment  in  Cram's  pretty 
parlor  when  the  captain  had  finished  his  story. 
Waring  was  the  first  to  speak : 

"  There  is  one  point  I  wish  they'd  clear  up." 

"What's  that?"  said  Cram. 

"Who's  got  Merton's  watch?" 

"  Oh,  by  Jove  !  I  quite  forgot.  It's  all  right, 
Waring.  Anatole's  place  was  *  pulled'  last  night, 


WARIN&S  PERIL.  229 

and  he  had  her  valuables  all  done  up  in  a  box. 
*  To  pay  for  his  boat/  he  said." 

****** 
A  quarter  of  a  century  has  passed  away  since 
the  scarlet  plumes  of  Light  Battery  "  X"  were 
last  seen  dancing  along  the  levee  below  New 
Orleans.  Beau  Rivage,  old  and  moss-grown  at 
the  close  of  the  war,  fell  into  rapid  decline  after 
the  tragedy  of  that  April  night.  Heavily  mort 
gaged,  the  property  passed  into  other  hands,  but 
for  years  never  found  a  tenant.  Far  and  near 
the  negroes  spoke  of  the  homestead  as  haunted, 
and  none  of  their  race  could  be  induced  to  set 
foot  within  its  gates.  One  night  the  sentry  at 
the  guard-house  saw  sudden  light  on  the  west 
ward  sky,  and  then  a  column  of  flame.  Again 
the  fire-alarm  resounded  among  the  echoing 
walls  of  the  barracks;  but  when  the  soldiers 
reached  the  scene,  a  seething  ruin  was  all  that 
was  left  of  the  old  Southern  home.  Somebody 
sent  Cram  a  marked  copy  of  a  New  Orleans 
paper,  and  in  their  cosey  quarters  at  Fort  Ham 
ilton  the  captain  read  it  aloud  to  his  devoted 
Nell :  "  The  old  house  has  been  vacant,  an  object 
of  almost  superstitious  dread  to  the  neighbor 
hood/'  said  the  Times  9  "  ever  since  the  tragic 
20 


230  WARIN&S  PERIL. 

death  of  Armand  Lascelles  in  the  spring  of  1868. 
In  police  annals  the  affair  was  remarkable  be 
cause  of  the  extraordinary  chain  of  circumstan 
tial  evidence  which  for  a  time  seemed  to  fasten 
the  murder  upon  an  officer  of  the  army  then 
stationed  at  Jackson  Barracks,  but  whose  inno 
cence  was  triumphantly  established.  Madame 
Lascelles,  it  is  understood,  is  now  educating  her 
daughter  in  Paris,  whither  she  removed  imme 
diately  after  her  marriage  a  few  months  ago  to 
Captain  Philippe  Lascelles,  formerly  of  the  Con 
federate  army,  a  younger  brother  of  her  first 
husband." 

"  Well,"  said  Cram,  « I'll  have  to  send  that  to 
Waring.  They're  in  Vienna  by  this  time,  I  sup 
pose.  Look  here,  Nell ;  how  was  it  that  when 
we  fellows  were  fretting  about  War  ing's  atten 
tions  to  Madame,  you  should  have  been  so 
serenely  superior  to  it  all,  even  when,  as  I  know, 
the  stories  reached  you  ?" 

"  Ah,  Ned,  I  knew  a  story  worth  two  of  those. 
lie  was  in  love  with  Natalie  Maitland  all  the 
time." 

THE   END. 


J.  B.  LIPP1NCOTT  COMPANY'S  FICTION. 


MARIAN  AND  R  OB  IN  HO  OD.     By 

J.   E.   MUDDOCK,   with    Illustrations   by  STANLEY  L. 

WOOD.     I2mo.    Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  The  story  of  Robin  Hood  and  his  bold  Foresters  will  never  lose  in 
terest  while  our  language  lasts,  and  no  story  founded  upon  their  lives 
and  deeds  possesses  a  greater  charm  than  Muddock's.  We  are  intro 
duced  to  the  wide  and  comparatively  unknown  woods,  to  the  gallant 
Robin  Hood  and  his  men,  and  to  brave  knights  and  fair  women. 
The  story  has  all  the  interest  and  life  of  the  old  time  romances, 
and  will  be  read  with  unflagging  pleasure."  —  Public  Opinion. 

E    THOUSAND  AND    ONE  DAYS.     A 

collection  of  Persian  Tales  in  two  volumes.  Edited  by 
JUSTIN  HUNTLEY  MCCARTHY,  with  Illustrations  by  STAN 
LEY  L.  WOOD.  I2mo.  $4.00. 

"  Nothing  good  is  ever  lost,  and  these  stories  are  so  excellent,  so 
reminiscent  of  the  ever-fresh  night-tales  of  all  our  youths,  that  it  is 
surprising  they  have  not  long  ago  wandered  into  a  modern  English 
dress.  To  say  that  they  will  at  once  be  accorded  a  place  in  the 
library  beside  the  hallowed  version  of  old  is  to  say  all  that  need  be 
said  in  their  praise."  —  London  Ath&ncum. 

E  DRAGON  OF  WANTLEY.  His  RISE, 
His  VORACITY,  AND  His  DOWNFALL.  A  Romance.  By 
OWEN  WISTAR.  Illustrated  by  Mr.  JOHN  STEWARDSON. 
8vo.  Cloth,  gilt  top.  $2.00. 

"  It  would  deprive  the  reader  of  half  the  pleasure  of  reading  this 
uncommonly  bright  tale,  were  we  to  anticipate  even  a  part  of  the 
plot.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  there  is  the  prettiest  and  freshest  of  love 
episodes  woven  through  the  mistletoe  leaves  of  a  hearty  Christmas 
story;  that  the  Baron  of  Wantley,  the  Monks  of  Oyster-le-Main, 
Elaine,  and  Geoffrey,  and  little  Whelpdale  the  Buttons,  and  Old 
Popham  the  Butler,  —  that  all  these  and  a  score  more  are  the  most 
laughable  and  lovable  characters  that  we  have  encountered  in  fiction 
this  many  a  day.  In  Mr.  John  Stewardson,  Mr.  Wistar  has  had  an 
artistic  collaborator  born.  The  humorous  pen-and-ink  work  which 
illustrates  the  text  and  adds  to  the  fun  of  almost  every  page  opens 
an  entirely  new  vein  in  art."  —  Chicago  Times. 


Philadelphia:  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  715-717  Market  St. 


J.  B.  LIPP1NCOTT  COMPANY'S   FICTION. 


O 


N  BOTH  SIDES.     By   FRANCES    COURTENAY 
BAYLOR.     I2mo.     Cloth,  £1.25. 

"  No  such  faithful,  candid,  kindly,  brilliant,  and  incisive  presenta 
tion  of  English  and  American  types  has  before  been  achieved.  The 
wit  of  the  story  is  considerable.  It  is  written  brilliantly,  yet  not 
flimsily.  It  is  the  best  international  novel  that  either  side  has  hitherto 
produced.  It  is  written  by  an  American  woman  who  really  knows 
both  countries,  and  who  has  shown  that  she  possesses  powers  which 
ought  to  put  her  in  the  front  rank  of  fiction." — New  York  Tribune. 

IDE  HIND  THE  BLUE  RIDGE.     By  FRANCES 
J--J     COURTENAY  BAYLOR.     I2mo.    Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  It  is  lightened  through  and  through  by  humor  as  subtle  and 
spontaneous  as  any  that  ever  brightened  the  dark  pages  of  life  history, 
and  is  warmed  by  that  keen  sympathy  and  love  for  human  nature 
which  transfigures  and  ennobles  everything  it  touches."— Chicago 
Tribune. 


A 


SHOCKING     EXAMPLE.      By     FRANCES 
COURTENAY  BAYLOR.    I2mo.    Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  An  entertaining  collection  of  stories  by  a  clever  writer  who  does 
not  adhere  to  any  single  line  of  scenes,  incidents,  or  characters.  Few 
of  our  women  writers  have  ventured  upon  so  wide  a  range  of  character 
or  been  more  successful."  —  New  York  Herald. 

"Miss  Baylor  is  one  of  the  best  and  brightest  of  American  short 
story  writers."  —  Boston  Transcript. 


T^AR  IN  THE  FOREST.    By  S.  WEIR  MITCHELL, 

•*•         author  of  "  Hepzibah  Guinness,"  etc.    I2mo.    Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  Dr.  Mitchell  shows  in  this,  as  in  his  other  novels,  a  keen  knowl 
edge  of  human  nature,  the  power  to  gra«p  and  portray  remarkable 
situations,  a  hearty  recognition  of  manliness  in  all  its  phases,  and  a 
thorough  understanding  of  the  intricacies  of  the  feminine  mind.  It  is 
a  capital  novel."  —  Boston  Beacon. 


Philadelphia:  J.  B.  LlPPiNCOTT  COMPANY,  715-717  Market  St. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY'S   FICTION. 


M- 


RS.    A.   L.    WISTER' S    TRANSLATIONS 
FROM  THE  GERMAN. 

COUNTBSS  ERIKA'S  APPRENTICESHIP.     By  Ossip  Schubin I* -25 

"  O  THOU,  MY  AUSTRIA  !"     By  Ossip  Schubiu 1.25 

EKLACH  COURT.     By  Ossip  Schubin 1.25 

THE  ALPINE  FAY.     By  E.  Werner 1.25 

THE  OWL'S  NKST.     By  E.  Marlitt 1.25 

PICKED  UP  IN  THE  STKBETS.     By  H.  Schobert 1.25 

SAINT  MICHAEL.     By  E.  Werner 1.25 

VIOLBTTA.     By  Ursula  Zoge  von  Manteufel X  25 

THE  EICHHOFFS.     By  Moritz  von  Keichenbach x  50 

A  NEW  RACK.     By  Gola  kaimund 1.25 

CASTLE  HOHBNWALU.     By  Adolph  Streckfus* 1.50 

MARGARBTHB.     By  E.  Juncker 1.50 

Too  RICH.     By  Adolph  Strcckfuss  .   .    , 1.50 

A  FAMILY  FEUD.     By  Ludwig  Harder 1.25 

THE  GKKKN  GATE.     By  Ernst  Wichert 1.50 

ONLY  A  GIKL.     By  Wilhelmine  von  Hillern 1.50 

WHY  DID  HE  Nor  DIE?    By  Ad.  von  Volckhauser 1.50 

THE  LADY  WITH  THE  RUBIES.     By  E.  Marlitt 1.25 

VAIN  FOREBODINGS.    By  E  Oswald 1.35 

A  PENNILESS  GIKL,     By  W.  Heimburg x  25 

QUICKSANDS.     By  Adolph  Streckfuss 1.50 

BANNED  AND  BLESSED.     By  E.  Werner 1.50 

A  NOBLK  NAME.     By  Clare  von  GlQmer 1.50 

FROM  HAND  TO  HAND.     By  Golo  Raimund 1.50 

SBVBRA.     By  E.  Hartner 1.50 

HULDA.     By  Fanny  Lewald 1.50 

THE  BAILIFF'S  MAID.     By  E.  Marlitt 1.35 

IN   THE   SCHILLINGSCOURT.       By  E.  Marlitt X.jO 

COUNTESS  GISBLA.    By  E.  Marlitt 1.50 

AT  THE  COUNCILLOR'S.     By  E.  Marlitt 1.50 

THB  SECOND  WIFE.     By  E.  Marlitt 1.50 

THB  OLD  MAM'SBLLB'S  SECRET.    By  E.  Marlitt 1.50 

GOLD  ELSIE.     By  E.  Marlitt 1.50 

THE  LITTLE  MOORLAND  PRINCESS.    By  E.  Marlitt 1.50 

I2mo.     Attractively  bound  in  cloth.     Thirty-four  volumes  in 
twenty-three.     Sold  dnly  in  sets.     $32. 75  per  set. 

"  Mrs.  A.  L.  Wister,  through  her  many  translations  of  novels  from 
the  German,  has  established  a  reputation  of  the  highest  order  for 
literary  judgment,  and  for  a  long  time  her  name  upon  the  title-page 
of  such  a  translation  has  been  a  sufficient  guarantee  to  the  lovers  of 
fiction  of  a  pure  and  elevating  character,  that  the  novel  would  be  a 
cherished  home  favorite.  This  faith  in  Mrs.  Wister  is  fully  justified 
by  the  fact  that  among  her  more  than  thirty  translations  that  have 
been  published  by  Lippincott's  there  has  not  been  a  single  disappoint 
ment.  And  to  the  exquisite  judgment  of  selection  is  to  be  added  the 
rare  excellence  of  her  translations,  which  has  commanded  the 
admiration  of  literary  and  linguistic  scholars." — Boston  Home  Journal. 


Philadelphia  :  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  715-717  Market  S», 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY'S  FICTION. 


TORIES  By  'MRS.  H.  LOVETT  CAMERON. 
I2mo.     Cloth,  $  I.  oo.     Paper,  50  cents  per  volume. 

A  SISTER'S  SIN.  A  DAUGHTER'S  HEART. 

JACK'S  SECRET. 

11  A  wide  circle  of  admirers  always  welcome  a  new  work  by  this 
favorite  author.  Her  style  is  pure  and  interesting,  and  she  depicts 
marvellously  well  the  daily  social  life  of  the  English  people."— 
St.  Louis  Republic.  - 

Bound  only  in  cloth,  $i  oo  per  volume. 
A  LOST  WIFE.  THE  COST  OF  A  LIE. 

THIS  WICKED  WORLD.          A  DEVOUT  LOVER. 
A  LIFE'S  MISTAKE.  WORTH  WINNING. 

VERA  NEVILLE.  PURE  GOLD. 

IN  A  GRASS  COUNTRY. 

"  Mrs.  Cameron's  numerous  efforts  in  the  line  of  fiction  have  won 
for  her  a  wide  circle  of  admirers.  Her  experience  in  novel  writing, 
as  well  as  her  skill  in  inventing  and  delineating  characters,  enables 
her  to  put  before  the  reading  public  stories  that  are  full  of  interest 
and  pure  in  tone."  —  Harrisburg  Telegraph. 

'TAKEN   BY  SIEGE.     i2mo.     Cloth,    £1.25. 

•*•  "A  graphic  and  very  interesting  anonymous  story  of  a 
young  journalist's  experience  in  New  York.  Who  the  hero  may  be  is 
enveloped  in  mystery,  but  that  the  heroine  is  Miss  Clara  Louise 
Kellogg  there  is  little  doubt.  The  other  characters  will  be  readily 
recognized  as  conspicuous  in  New  York  society.  The  story  reveals 
the  inside  workings  of  some  of  the  metropolitan  newspapers,  and 
shows  how,  by  pluck,  brains,  and  luck,  a  new  man  may  sometimes 
rise  rapidly  to  the  highest  rank  in  journalism,  distancing  the  veterans. 
The  author  has  unusual  ability  as  a  writer  of  fiction."  —  Albany 
Journal. 

E  STOR  Y  OF  D  ON  MIFF.  By  VIRGTNIUS 
DABNEY,  author  of  "  Gold  That  Did  Not  Glitter."  I2mo. 
Cloth,  51.50. 

11  Hardly  a  single  chapter  can  be  read  without  a  laugh,  and  yet 
there  are  some  which  will  bring  an  inevitable  lump  into  the  reader's 
throat.  .  .  .  There  are  passages  which  in  simple  pathos  remind  one 
vividly  of  Bret  Harte.  .  .  .  Taken  altogether  it  is  one  of  the  most 
entertaining  books  we  have  read  of  late,  and  will,  no  doubt,  be  as 
widely  appreciated  here  as  in  its  own  country."  —  London  Pall  Mall 
Budget  (  Gatctte).  _  _  ___ 

Philadelphia:  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  715-717  Market  St. 


J.  B.  L1PPINCOTT  COMPANY'S  FICTION. 

T  EAVES  FROM  THE  LIFE  OF  A    GOOD- 

•1—*    FDR-NOTHING.    Translated  by  MRS.  A.  L.  WISTER.     From 

the  German  of  Joseph  F.  von  Eichendorff.     Handsomely 

illustrated  by  photogravures  from  designs  by  Johann  and 

Kanoldt.     Printed  on  fine  plate  paper  throughout.     Small 

4to.     Bound  in  cloth,  gilt  top.     New  Edition,  £2.50. 

11  The  autobiography  of  this  young  itinerant  German  philosopher 

is  delightful.     It  reads  like  a  mixture  of  Goethe  and  Daudet.     The 

romance  of  it  is  warm  and  colorful ;    the  humor  fine  and  delicate. 

One's  interest  in  the  narrative  is  greatly  enhanced  by  the  plentiful  and 

beautiful  process  illustrations." 

OVELS   OF  E.  MARL  ITT. 


It  is  through  the  delightful  translations  of  Mrs.  A.  L.  Wister 
that  the  novels  of  this  celebrated  German  author  have  become  so 
popular  in  America.  They  have  now  been  profusely  illustrated  with 
characteristic  full-page  drawings  from  the  original  German  editions, 
and  include  the  following  volumes  : 

OLD  MAM'SELLE'S  SECRET.        COUNTESS  GISELA. 

AT  THE  COUNCILLOR'S.  IN  THE  SCHILLINGSCOURT. 

THE  SECOND  WIFE.  THE  BAILLIFF'S  MAID. 

THE  LADY  WITH  THE  RUBIES.  GOLD  ELSIE. 

THE  OWL'S  NEST.  THE  LITTLE  MOORLAND  PRIN 

CESS. 

Price  in  sets,  10  volumes,  $15.00. 

"  No  one  who  has  read  '  The  Old  Mam'selle's  Secret,'  with  its 
rapid  story,  its  melting  pathos,  and  its  strong  characterization,  needs 
to  be  told  of  the  singular  merits  of  the  writer.  That  was  universally 
recognized  as  one  of  the  most  absorbing,  powerful,  and  dramatic 
stories  which  had  come  across  the  ocean  in  many  a  day.  The  sams 
German  original  and  the  same  English  reproducer  have  given  us  the 
other  volumes."  —  Albany  Journal. 


'TTHE  HOL  COMBES.  A  Story  of  Virginia  Home- 
-*  Life.  By  MARY  TUCKER  MAGILL.  I2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 
"  A  picture  of  home-life  in  old  Virginia  before  the  war.  Diaries, 
letters,  dialogues,  conversation,  and  action  make  up  the  character  of 
the  story.  The  stranger  to  the  domestic  life  of  the  South  can  nowhere 
find  a  more  faithful  picture  of  its  former  qualities  and  surroundings." 


Philadelphia:  J.  3.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  715-717  Market  St. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY'S  FICTION. 

TTIS    GREAT  SELF.      By  MARION  HARLAND, 
•*  •*       author  of  "  Alone,"  "  True  as  Steel,"  etc.     I2mo.    Cloth, 
$1.25. 

11  It  calls  up  the  days  when  the  ladies  flashed  in  brocades  and 
swelled  in  hoops  ;  when  the  men  were  autocrats  and  discussed 
Shakespeare  and  Mr.  Pope  ;  a  time  that  even  Thackeray,  seeing  the 
picturesque  opportunities  which  it  afforded  the  novelist,  did  not  disdain 
to  deal  with,  and  which  will  always  be  treasured  by  the  lovers  of  the 
old  and  the  picturesque.  Some  of  the  author's  pages  have  about 
them  the  fragrance  that  scents  a  room  when  some  antique  cabinet 
has  been  opened,  and  there  steals  out  the  perfume  of  thyme  and 
lavender  placed  there  by  a  hand  that  has  long  ago  mouldered  into 
dust."—  Philadelphia  Record. 


GRAY.  A  Kentucky  tale  of  the  olden 
time.  By  JAMES  LANE  ALLEN,  author  of  "  Flute  and 
Violin,"  etc.  I2mo.  Cloth,  £1.00. 

"  The  unhappy  love  experience  which  forms  the  thread  of  the 
tale  is  but  a  chapter  out  of  the  life  of  almost  any  young  man.  And 
it  is  not  dramatically  told,  either.  Yet  there  is  an  intangible  some 
thing  in  the  book  that  now  and  then  touches  the  spring  of  tears  when 
the  reader  is  least  expecting  it.  The  central  character,  John  Gray,  is 
as  noble  a  specimen  of  young  manhood  as  any  idealist  could  create, 
yet  always  and  everywhere  he  is  entirely  natural  and  human."— 
Boston  Journal. 


MAN  OF  FEELING.     By  HENRY  MAC- 
KENZIE.     Illustrated  by  WILLIAM  CUBITT  COOKE.     i6mo. 
Cloth,  uncut,  $1.00;  Large  paper,  buckram,  $3.00. 
"  While  other  works  are  extolled,  admired,  and  reviewed,  those  of 
Mackenzie  will  be  loved  and  wept  over.    They  cannot  be  out  of 
date  till  the  dreams  of  young  imagination  shall  vanish  and  the  deepest 
sympathies  of  love  and  hope  be  stilled  forever.     The  tender  pleasure 
which  '  The  Man  of  Feeling'  excites  is  wholly  without  alloy.     Its 
hero  is  the  most  beautiful  personification  of  gentleness,  patience,  and 
meek  sufferings  which  the  heart  can  conceive."  —  London  Saturday 
Review.  _ 

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